Off Limits
by headoverhook
Summary: She had always been like a little sister to him. Until the day she came back from college and everything changed. Best friend's sibling AU.
1. Prologue

**New season starts tonight and I am starting a new story. I hope you will like it. I am definitely very excited to write it. :-)**

**Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. Just this story.**

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**Prologue**

She was late. Really, really late. Ruby would rip her head off.

She jumped down over the last few steps of the stairs and rushed around the corner, smacking unchecked into a solid wall. A solid wall in form of a human being. A solid male human being.

But she couldn't even look up, her running into him had apparently taken him completely by surprise and he stumbled backwards, his feet catching onto something and he crashed down to the ground, taking her with him.

_Please, let it be David. Please._

But of course it was not her brother. She knew it the moment his hands closed around her arms, and his familiar scent hit her. It was he.

Killian Jones. Her brother's best friend.

And the man she had fallen badly in love with.

"Wow, Emma," he grunted, rubbing one hand over his chest.

She pushed herself away from him, trying to stand up, but his hands were still wrapped around her arms, forcing her to stay where she was.

Sitting on his lap.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as she looked down at him, his startling blue eyes twinkling with amusement, and her fingers itched to trail over the scruff and down his throat, the urge to bury her fingers in the fine mat of hair she could see peeking out of the open V of his shirt was overwhelming her.

But of course she didn't. Because she was a child to him. The little sister of his best friend.

"Sorry," she mumbled, scrambling off his lap and up as he finally let go of her arms, and she pressed herself against the next wall, trying to get as much space between them as possible.

He was still lying on the floor, his mouth curling up into one of those smirks that made her insides all gooey, and she was glad for the wall at her back, giving her much needed support.

"What's the hurry?" he asked, her mouth going dry as he pushed himself off the floor, the jeans tightening over his firm ass.

"Ruby is waiting for me. We are going to the movies."

"Movies, huh?" His grin broadened even further as he leaned forward and tilted his head, his lips almost brushing her ear as he said. "With or without boys?"

His voice shot shivers down her spine, and she closed her eyes for just one second. He wasn't referring to himself, the comment wasn't meant to be flirtatious. She knew that. But she still couldn't help being affected by the sultry tone of his voice.

He was teasing her. Like an older brother would tease his little sister. But God, she wished he wouldn't.

"No. No boys," she said hastily, pressing her hands against his chest to push him away from her, so that she could get the hell out of here before she would do something really stupid.

Like leaning forward and finding out how his scruff would feel brushing over her skin. How his lips might feel moving under hers.

_Get out of here now, Emma. Now._

"Gotta go. See you soon."

She slipped out of under his arm and rushed to the door, yanking it open.

"Have fun."

She didn't look back and just slammed the door shut behind her. Leaning back against it, she let out a soft sigh, her fingers curling into tight fists, still prickling with the sensation of his chest hair tingling her skin.

Maybe one day he would stop looking at her as if she was his sister. Maybe one day he would start looking at her in a completely different way.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 1

**Wow, thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favorites. I am overwhelmed by the response the prologue has gotten. Just … wow! Thank you!**

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**Chapter 1**

_Five years later_

"You look gorgeous. He won't know what hit him."

Emma threw a last glance at her reflection before she turned around to her best friend.

"What do you mean?" she asked, gulping down the chuckle that was rising up in her throat as she saw Ruby roll her eyes.

"Emma Swan, I am your best friend. How long have we known each other?"

"Seems like forever."

"Exactly. And this ..." Ruby grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to the mirror again, waving her hand up and down her body. "This is all to sweep him off his feet. And you can't tell me otherwise."

Of course it was. She had drawn all her weapons to show him once and for all that she was not a child anymore. Far from it.

The dress was hugging her figure, showing off her cleavage without being too revealing. The golden color was pleasing her fair skin tone, the embroidered fabric serving as an eye catcher. Her hairdo revealed her slim neck, the high heels made her legs even longer, and the red lip stick was screaming sin.

She hoped it was enough.

She hadn't seen him for three years, but she hadn't wasted these three years. She had watched, and listened, and learned. By now she knew all the tricks, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Ruby was right. He wouldn't know what hit him.

She had known she couldn't remain innocent and hope he would notice her one day. If she didn't pull out all the guns, he would never look at her differently. So she had lost her innocence to a cute guy in her first year at college to get the first time over with. After that she just learned. Learned how to flirt, what to do to drive men wild.

She had observed other girls, and tested her theories out later. She hadn't been a slut, hadn't been a tease. She had only taken the hot guys into bed. The ones who didn't look for a girlfriend, just for some hot sex. The ones that still knew how to keep their mouths shut. The ones that didn't brag about their conquests afterwards. She had blown their minds. Literally and figuratively. And they had all come back for more.

Three. She had tested her theories on three men.

It had been fun. Most of the times. But there had been moments over the last five years when she wondered if it was all worth it. If she shouldn't try harder to get over her infatuation, to try harder to forget the one man who haunted her day and night. The one man she couldn't forget. The one man she fell in love with all those years ago. The man who had pulled her pigtails when she was seven, the man who had put big hairy spiders under her bed sheet, the man who had pushed her into the mud and laughed when the murky water had been running down her face.

But then he had grown up, his voice had changed, his body had changed, and even though she had only been fourteen she had noticed. She hadn't even realized it. At first. But then he had made her laugh one day, and had bumped his shoulder against hers, and his fingers had brushed her skin, and she knew.

She just knew.

And since then there had never been another man in her heart.

She had to try. She would never be able to move on if she wouldn't try.

This was it. The moment of truth. When she was walking down the stairs to meet him she would know. She would know if she stood a chance.

She would see it in his eyes.

-/-

"So, Emma has agreed to play the buffer for you tonight?"

Killian turned around to his brother, his mouth curling up into a lopsided grin. "You know the women would eat me alive if I would go there without company, brother."

"You are incorrigible, Killian. You know that, right?" Liam shook his head and walked over to him, reaching up to close his shirt. "How about you would settle down just a little bit? Like having a serious relationship and not hopping from bed to bed? Believe me, it is way more satisfying."

"Yeah, maybe for you. Because you are old, Liam," Killian huffed, lifting his hand, and opening the first two buttons of his shirt again. He wasn't wearing a tie for a reason. He would feel as if he would suffocate when his shirt was closed up until the last button. "I am only twenty-seven. I am not done with the wild life yet."

He was a hotshot journalist. His column was a major success, and the women were chasing after him. He could choose out of a grand pool. All of them gorgeous beyond measure. All of them eager to please him. Easy to get into bed.

He loved his life. He didn't want to change anything. At least not for the next ten years or so.

"How do I look?" He stepped back and opened his arms, cocking one eyebrow.

Liam looked him up and down, just shaking his head again. "You know how you look. You don't need me to tell you that." Liam pulled him into a one-armed hug, patting his shoulder. "Go, break some hearts then, little brother."

"Younger brother," Killian corrected him before he stepped back, grinning from ear to ear as he said. "Nothing little about me anymore. Just ask ..."

"Get out of here," Liam groaned, and ushered him out of the door.

He was still grinning when he climbed into his car and drove the short distance to David and Emma's apartment. David was welcoming him with a clap on his back, and thrust a beer bottle into his hand. He took a huge sip, knowing that he would only drive to the party. He had arranged for a limo service afterwards. It would pick them up whenever they wished. And this way he could always go home with a woman without having to worry how Emma might get home.

"You are responsible for her safety tonight."

"Of course, David. She'll be safe with me."

"I hope so," David muttered under his breath, and Killian laughed.

"Come on. You know she is like a little sister to me. She is probably the only woman under thirty in town who doesn't have to fear I will charm her pants off."

"Yeah, right." David shot him a smile, his eyes wandered over Killian's shoulder and his smile grew soft. "And here she comes."

Killian turned around, the huge grin still on his face, but then his eyes fell on her and the grin slipped off his face, his mouth falling open as he stared at the vision coming down the stairs. His throat closed up, his heart slammed against his ribcage, and his cock twitched.

He couldn't breathe. This couldn't … this was not … it wasn't possible.

"Emma?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

There it was. The look she was hoping for.

She saw his slack-jawed expression, the flicker of want crossing his eyes, the breathless tone of his voice as he said her name.

She almost stumbled over the last step, cursing inwardly. Because what a grand entrance that would have been when she would have fallen flat on her face? Very ungraceful.

But she tightened her fingers around the railing, and regained her balance, her mouth curling up into a smile she knew from experience dazzled men speechless as she walked towards him.

"Killian." She leaned up on her tiptoes as she reached him, pressed one hand against his shoulder and brushed a kiss over his cheek.

She felt him shiver under her fingers. It was a harmless peck. A peck a sister would give her brother. But of course it wasn't supposed to be harmless. It was supposed to rattle him.

And it clearly did.

His eyes were boring into hers as she leaned back, and his hand was pressing against the small of her back. He had wrapped his arm around her instinctively, and she could feel the heat burn through the thin fabric of her dress.

But then he snatched his hand away as if he had been burned and stepped back. His eyes fluttered close for a second, and when he opened them again he had himself under control again. Teasing glint in his eyes, cocky smirk playing over his lips.

"Shall we?"

She just nodded and walked towards the door. She had only made a few steps when she felt his fingers ghost over her back again, and she smiled when he snatched it away again a moment later.

They didn't say anything on the way to his car, and he opened the door for her silently, going around the hood and slipping into the driver seat's without a word.

"So where are we going exactly?" she asked to fill the silence after a few minutes of driving.

"Regina Mills is giving a party. She is the owner of the newspaper I'm working for."

"And you asked me to accompany you so that the women won't jump your bones the moment you step through the door?" she questioned teasingly.

"Something like that," he replied in a gruff tone.

"So, am I supposed to be your girlfriend or ..."

"No!" he shouted, his hands curling tighter around the wheel, making her bite her tongue to avoid a big grin to spread out on her face. "No, you are not supposed to be my girlfriend. You are supposed to be the little sister of my best friend to whom I want to show the sparkling life of a hotshot journalist."

"I see," she replied nonchalantly, turning in her seat to face him, noticing his body stiffen even more. "You do know that I don't have to pretend to be the little sister of your best friend. I _am_ the little sister of your best friend."

"I know," he barked, his knuckles turning even whiter around the wheel, and she wanted to laugh out loud.

This was definitely more fun than she expected. And maybe it would be way more easier to seduce him. Apparently he was already on the end of his rope only because she was wearing a dress and high heels.

She hadn't even started flirting with him. Her mouth tilted up into a lopsided grin, and she shifted on her seat again, seeing him tense even more beside her.

This would be fun. This would definitely be a lot of fun.

-/-

She was killing him.

Where was the lanky teenager he remembered? Where was the teenager with limbs too long for her body, and eyes too huge for her face? When did she change from an ugly duckling in this dazzling swan?

_God, Jones. You are pathetic. Dazzling Swan?_

He scoffed and his fingers tightened around the scotch in his hand. He lifted the tumbler to his mouth, drinking it all at once, all three fingers of the admittedly very good Scotish scotch. But he didn't savor the rich taste of it, just wanted to get drunk as fast as possible.

She was amazingly beautiful, and when he closed his eyes he could see her coming down the stairs. Her lean body, the dress hugging every curve of her, her hair being swept up on her head in a hairdo that looked as if it would unravel at the slightest tug, showing off her neck, and the tulle over her cleavage … when the hell did she turn into this gorgeous woman?

He hadn't been prepared for this attack. Not in the slightest. And then she had walked over to him and kissed him. Granted it had been only a quick peck on the cheek, nothing romantic or passionate about it. But her scent had enveloped him, and her breasts had brushed against his arm, and lust had burned through him. So suddenly, so hot, so unexpected that he had almost staggered backwards.

The drive to the party had been pure hell. He had noticed every little shift of her beside him, and he could swear her skin had glowed in the soft light of the street lamps. He had needed to concentrate all his will power on driving while trying to ignore the pounding of his cock that had increased with every shift of her beside him.

He signaled the bartender and held up his tumbler. He needed more alcohol. Way more alcohol.

He sensed her before he even saw her, or maybe it was her perfume that wafted around him before he felt her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"What are you drinking?"

Did her voice change too? He could swear her voice alone was a lethal weapon. Did he only imagine it or was it all smooth and husky at the same time?

God, he was going insane.

"Scotch," he mumbled, lifting the glass and downing it in one gulp without even looking at her.

"I'll take the same please."

Her voice was intoxicating, and a jolt snapped through his body as her fingers fell on his hand. "Do you want another one?"

"Aye," he rasped, pulling his hand out of under her fingers. His skin was burning where she had touched him, and he suppressed the urge to rub over it to extinguish the sensation.

The drinks were put in front of them and she grabbed her tumbler, her slender fingers wrapping around the glass, his thoughts immediately jumping to her fingers wrapped around something else and he wanted to hit his head against the bar.

_She is Emma. Emma Swan. She is like a little sister to you._

"Sláinte mhaith!" She clinked her glass against his, her green eyes sparkling as her mouth closed around the rim of the glass.

"Sláinte mhaith!"

She had pronounced it perfectly, her voice shooting shivers down his spine and making his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

He was going to hell. She was the little sister of his best friend, and all he wanted to do was drag her into the next free room, and kiss her senseless and tear the dress off her body.

He wanted to feel her nipples burn holes into his palms. He wanted to suckle and nip at them until they were hard and stiff. He wanted to slide his hand between her legs. He wanted to find out if she was burning for him as much as he was burning for her.

He almost groaned out loud, his fingers twitching as he imagined her wet and hot core, imagined her head falling back in ecstasy when he pushed his fingers into her, imagined her moans when he thrust them deep into her tight sheath, imagined her cries when he went down on her, and fucked her with his tongue and fingers until she couldn't take it any longer.

_Sister. Sister. Remember she is your little sister, Jones._

But she wasn't his sister. She was a siren. A blond siren with a body to die for. A body he wanted to feel writhing in passion under his own.

"Let's dance." Her voice yanked him out of his lewd thoughts and made him face her again.

"What?" he croaked out, his mind still occupied with clearing his head off any dirty thoughts he had about her.

"Come on, Killian. I wanna dance."

_No!_

He wanted to scream it out loud. Because he couldn't dance with her. He couldn't feel her body pressing against his. He couldn't feel her hands on his body. He couldn't.

"Emma, I ..."

"Don't be a spoilsport." She cocked her head, and wrapped her hand around his, her bottom lip jutting out into a mock pout.

He was doomed. He was so doomed.

And before he could say anything else she dragged him onto the dance floor.

He was in hell.


	4. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much, you lovely people! Smoochies for all of you!**

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**Chapter 3**

She knew she had caught him off-guard with her request. He had clearly been deep in thought when she asked him to dance with her, and judging from the furrow between his brows he was brooding over something.

She was hoping he was thinking about her.

He had pulled his hand out of under her fingers almost immediately when she had put her hand on his. The contact had been brief, but she had still felt a jolt rushing through her body. She had been happy that the bartender had asked for her ID, distracting her while she had fumbled through her small purse and showed it to him so that he could check her age before he had walked off to pour their drinks.

Normally she had her ID already in hand. She had only turned twenty-one four months ago, and everyone was still asking for her ID whenever she ordered a drink. But she had been so distracted by Killian's presence beside her that she couldn't think straight anymore.

The scotch was burning down her throat and warmth spread through her as the golden liquid found its way to her stomach.

Maybe the rich taste was giving her the necessary courage, or maybe the alcohol made her do things she should probably not do.

Like asking him to dance.

But before she could change her mind, her mouth had showed a will of its own and formed a mock pout, and her hand had closed around his and she had pulled him on the dance floor.

She had taken some dancing classes during college, so she knew a lot depended on how well her partner could dance to make a waltz a great experience and not a disaster with squashed toes and gritted teeth.

But she should have known that he could dance. Of course he could. And of course he danced with an easiness that made her heart beat harder in her chest. She definitely didn't need to fear that they would get out of step, or that he would step on her toes.

It was perfect. They fit perfectly together.

Her hand on his shoulder tightened as she looked up at him and was greeted by a dazzling smile, his eyes dancing with sheer joy, and her heart slammed first into her throat and then plummeted into her stomach.

God, she was so screwed.

He was so close. His cologne was wafting into her nose and God, he smelled delicious. And his mouth was only a few inches away. She just needed to tilt her head a little bit, and she would be able to press her lips on his.

His hand was shifting on the small of her back and a shiver ran down her spine.

She was so fucking screwed.

She knew she had been the one asking him for the dance, and apparently it had been the worst idea she ever had.

She needed to get a grip, otherwise she would jump him right here on the dance floor, and would probably cause a scene.

She nearly let out a sigh of relief when the music ended, and he guided her back to the bar. The relief was so great that she almost chuckled, and she swirled around to him, her mouth turning up into a huge smile.

Disaster averted.

-/-

It hadn't been the hell he expected.

The moment her hand slipped into his and his arm around her waist, and the first beats of a waltz reached their ears, he was swept up into the music.

He loved to dance, and she was an exceptional partner. He had never danced with her before, but it was as if they were made for each other. No stumbling steps. No rigid postures. He relaxed into the dance, enjoying the fluid movements, enjoying her slender body fitting perfectly against his.

It hadn't been hell until the music stopped, and he leaded her back to the bar and she slumped against it. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling and then she looked up at him, her mouth curling up into a smile and all the lewd thoughts jumped back to the forefront of his mind.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her really, really bad.

"Maybe we should call the limo now," he said harshly, regretting his tone when he saw her smile falter.

"Sure," she said quietly. "I'll just go to the restrooms very quick. I'll be back in a minute."

He watched her crossing the room and disappearing through the door, and gritted his teeth. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his phone and called the limo service, getting the information that they would send a limo immediately, and it would reach their destination in about ten minutes.

He signaled the bartender and ordered another scotch while waiting for Emma. But then it hit him that he would be alone with her in a limo very soon. Alone with her scent enveloping him. Alone with her gorgeous body shifting beside him, and this time he wouldn't be able to distract himself with driving.

No. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He couldn't drive home with her and his eyes started to scan the crowd, searching for a perfect prey, finding her at the other end of the bar.

Brunette. Perfect.

Dark eyes. Even more perfect.

Clear invitation in her eyes. Triple perfect.

He sauntered over to her, cocky smirk in place, and she turned around to him, giving him a perfect view of her exceptional cleavage. But he forced himself to not look down, his eyes staying on her face.

"Wanna have some company?"

"For here or for ..." she paused, and raised an eyebrow, her tongue darting out and licking over her bottom lip. "Something else."

"Both," he replied, leaning closer and ignoring the twinge of guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn't as if Emma and he had anything going on. And there would never be anything between them. Why should he waste a perfect opportunity to find a gorgeous woman to fuck his brains out for one night?

"How about we are taking this to a quieter corner?" She reached for his hand, and pulled him out of the room and down the floor. "And by the way ... the name is Tracy."

"Killian."

They didn't get far before she shoved him against the wall, and kissed the living daylights out of him. She was demanding and passionate. Exactly his kind of woman.

He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back to have better access to her mouth. Deepening the kiss, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her nearer, feeling her shift, her body sliding over his already hardening length, and he splayed out his fingers, skimming with the tips over her ass.

"Killian, the limo is here."

Emma's voice interrupted them, and he released Tracy's lips slowly and tilted his head, keeping her still pressed against his body as he looked at Emma.

"You go ahead, Emma. I think I will stay for a little while longer."

He could see the hurt flashing over her eyes, and the twinge of guilt was back in the pit of his stomach. Just much more forceful. But he didn't act on it.

Maybe it was better if she hated him. It would make it easier to ignore the attraction. Even now he could feel a pull. A pull drawing him towards her.

But it couldn't happen. They couldn't happen. It was better that way.

Emma stared at him for a few more seconds before she shook her head and swirled around, storming down the floor and out of the main door.

And maybe he should have followed her. Maybe apologizing to her would be the honorable thing to do. But she was the sister of his best friend and he wouldn't touch her. She was off-limits.

Following her would only end in disaster.

"Hey, gorgeous," Tracy whispered into his ear, pulling his ear lobe between her teeth and tugging at it gently. "I am waiting."

"You are impatient," he said, looking down at her. "I like that."

And shoving every thought about a blond woman with green eyes out of his mind, he leaned down and captured Tracy's lips for another searing kiss.

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***runs behind the couch and searches for cover***

**Sorry, about the ending. Muse insisted on it. But you will hopefully get the next chapter on Sunday and then weekly updates. :-)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You are an idiot!"

She didn't know if she was talking about herself, or the idiot she had just left behind in the house. Probably both.

She walked briskly down the stairs, concentrating on not stumbling in her three-inch heels, instead of thinking about the scene she had just witnessed in the hallway.

He had kissed another woman.

She felt tears prick the back of her eyes, hurt and anger colliding inside of her. She was a fool. Blinking away the tears, she nodded to the chauffeur who was holding the door open for her, and slipped into the car, telling him in a soft voice that Mr. Jones had found another ride home.

Relaxing into the seat, she looked around, taking in the expansive interior of the car and the fully stacked mini bar in front of her.

"Are the refreshments included in the service?" she asked quietly, and the chauffeur turned around in his seat to face her.

"No, Ms. Swan. They need to be paid extra."

Her eyes caught the orange label of the famous champagne brand, and a shaky smile spread out over her face.

"Everything will be paid by Mr. Jones, I guess?" she asked, and the chauffeur nodded before closing the window, giving her some privacy.

Very well.

She reached for the small bottle of Moët and opened it, grasping a flute and pouring the bubbling gold liquid into the glass. Lifting it to her mouth, she took in a deep breath before pouring it down her throat.

She _was_ an idiot.

What did she expect? That he would see her and fall in love with her right on the spot. That he would drop down on her knees and propose. That he would never ever turn his eyes away from her, ever again.

"You are pathetic, Swan," she murmured, pouring the rest of the Moët into the flute and gulping it down.

The bubbles prickled in her nose, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against the seat. She knew his reputation. From the tabloids, and the stories her brother had told her. He was a womanizer. Had another woman every night, or so it seemed.

She wasn't a teenager anymore, with her head in the clouds, dreaming of a white knight in shining armor who came to her rescue, and swept her off her feet to live happily ever after.

Maybe it had just been the remnants of a pubescent infatuation, maybe she should just let it go and concentrate on the job she would start on Monday.

She just wanted to shower, and drop into bed. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

When they finally reached the apartment, she grasped the second bottle of champagne before exiting the car. After all, letting go didn't mean she couldn't make him pay for letting her drive home alone.

-/-

He slammed the door of the cabinet shut, and unscrewed the bottle of Scotch, not even bothering with searching for a glass, but putting the bottle straight to his mouth.

"Bloody fucking hell!" he growled as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"Would you mind taking it down a notch?" Liam's tired voice came from the door, and he looked up, meeting his brother's gaze over the room.

"Not in the mood," he scoffed, taking another huge gulp.

"And take a glass, for God's sake," Liam scolded. "You are not an animal."

"Too much effort."

"What happened to you tonight? The woman of your choosing wasn't willing to take you home with her?"

"None of your bloody business."

"Ah, I see. So you are going on a rampage here because you didn't get laid?" Liam questioned, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. "You know, that is pathetic. Even for you."

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Killian huffed, not in the mood for a lecture.

"You know what? I am just going back to bed," Liam said, shoving himself away from the frame. "But do me a favor and drown yourself in alcohol in silence please. Some people are actually trying to sleep at night. You can be glad Elsa is in Memphis this week. She would have ripped your head off."

"Leave me alone."

"With pleasure."

His fingers tightened around the bottle as the events of the evening flashed through his mind again and he slumped down on the couch. What was he going to do? He had hoped taking another woman to bed would just erase the lust he suddenly felt for his best friend's little sister, and going down that route had never failed him before.

Why the hell hadn't he been able then to actually do it?

After a short make-out session in the hallway, Tracy had pulled him out on the curb and hailed a cab. Maybe it had been the cooler air of the night that had cleared his head, or maybe he had just too much to drink, but suddenly he hadn't wanted to go home with her anymore.

He had only needed to say her name. She had turned around to him, all smiley, her eyes bright with excitement. But then she had taken a good look at him, and her smile had faltered and she had blinked once, letting out a soft sigh and telling him that it was a pity and that he would miss out on an interesting night.

He should have just fucked her. But standing on the curb, he had suddenly seen Emma's face in front of him again, and he just couldn't do it.

"I am so fucked," he growled, closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the couch.

Maybe he just needed to sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could laugh about it all. Emma had just surprised him. That was all. He had never looked at her as a woman. At least not in a passionate way. And her stunning beauty had just caught him on the wrong foot.

Yes. He would just sleep, and tomorrow everything would be back to normal.

-/-

"I have a bottle of Moët here. Wanna kill it with me?" Emma asked, the moment Ruby picked up the phone.

"Where the hell did you get a bottle of Moët?"

"From Killian," Emma told her, pausing briefly before she added. "Sort of."

"Coming right over. I'm excited to hear _that_ story."

They were both nipping at their second glass of champagne after Emma had told Ruby what had happened the night before, Ruby scoffing at the right points like a good friend always did, and she would probably call him names any second now.

"He is an idiot," Ruby said, right on cue.

"Maybe."

"What do you mean with maybe?" Ruby asked exasperatedly. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Probably."

"Okay, you are confusing me here."

"You are right, Ruby," Emma elaborated. "Of course you are. He is an idiot. But I shouldn't have expected that only seeing me would turn him into an angel. We both know he is far away from being a saint."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Ruby's voice pitched high with disbelief. "Really?"

"Of course I could still try to seduce him, but who am I kidding?" Emma shrugged her shoulders, downing the last gulp of champagne and licking her lips. "It would never be more than a romp in the bed. Granted, it would be probably amazing and very satisfying."

"So why not take some mind-blowing orgasms and leave it at that?"

"Because it's not enough," Emma said firmly, her fingers skimming over the empty glass in her hand. "Not with him."

Ruby left a few minutes later, and Emma was putting the glasses in the dishwasher, shoving every thought of Killian into a far away corner of her brain.

She was trying to convince herself that it was over. That she wouldn't pursue him any longer, that she would just let it go. But a small voice in her head was whispering that it was definitely easier said than done, and a part of her refused to give up just yet.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"God, Jones. I am never, ever going to drink with you again." Killian just poured Robin a cup of coffee and held it towards him, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder as his friend announced. "I still have a hangover."

"You are getting old, my friend," Killian shot back, wincing when a loud pang came from the press room, the sound piercing through his skull.

"You don't look any better."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Yeah, right," Robin scoffed, taking a sip of his coffee. Leaning against the counter, he tilted his head and his eyes narrowed as he watched Killian.

"What?" Killian asked exasperated after Robin had studied him silently for over a minute.

"So tell me ..." Robin trailed off, a sudden grin splitting up his face, a grin that didn't bode well for Killian. He knew that grin. "Why exactly did you not take a woman home with you?"

"I wasn't in the mood," Killian replied, turning around to make himself another cup of coffee, hoping the grinding of the coffee beans would give him enough time to find another topic to distract his friend, but no such luck.

"You are always in the mood," Robin said, and Killian shot a glance out of the corner of his eye towards him, groaning inwardly when sudden understanding flashed over his friend's face. "Wait a second?" Killian flinched, waiting for the inevitable outburst. "Oh my God! I didn't think I would ever see the day."

"What day?" The moment the question was out of his mouth Killian knew he should have just walked out of the room and left Robin behind. Robin's tenacity was infamous. He wouldn't stop pestering him until he had the answers he was looking for.

"The day a woman got to you," Robin replied, boxing his fist into Killian's shoulder. "Who is she? I want details."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Come on, Killian. It's me. I need to meet the woman who made Killian Jones stop chasing after women."

"I never chased after women," Killian scoffed. "They chased after me."

"Chased? As in past tense?" Robin questioned, grinning from ear to ear. "I _really_ need to meet this woman."

"There is no woman."

"Of course there is. And I am gonna find out eventually."

Before Killian could come up with a reply someone called his name and he turned towards the door.

"Jones! I need your column in two hours." Jason stuck his head into the coffee room and held up two fingers. "Two hours!"

"Back to work it is then," Killian said, pushing himself away from the counter and strolling towards the door.

"You are not off the hook, Jones. I want to meet her."

Killian just scoffed, and walked out the door. He definitely needed to get a grip. This was getting ridiculous. Now his friends already knew something was wrong with him, and only because the little sister of his best friend had grown up and had turned his life upside down the moment she stepped down the stairs.

Maybe it was time for him to admit that this 'problem' he had with Emma wouldn't just go away. Maybe it was time he actually tried to deal with it. He couldn't avoid her forever. And he owed her an apology for being a complete jerk on Friday.

Though she had made him pay already. Literally. In cash. A huge amount of cash. He had cursed first when he had seen the bill from the limo service, but then he had realized that he deserved it, and had just paid the bill.

Hopefully taking the two bottles of Moët had softened her a little bit, and she would not rip his head off when he was trying to apologize the next time he saw her.

-/-

"So, how is your first day so far?"

Emma looked up when Liam stepped up to her desk, and smiled.

"Well, you know … a lot of paperwork to fill out, and schedules to go over. But I guess paperwork is a big part of the job, so I better get used to it, right?"

"It definitely is," Liam replied. "But I bet you are eager to see your first case."

"Yes." Emma grinned. "And Graham promised me he will take me with him to the crime scene."

"He is a tough teacher. But also very good. You will learn a lot from him if you pay attention."

"That's the plan."

"You'll fit right in. You'll see," Liam said. "How about dinner on Saturday with the whole gang? Are you free? Elsa is cooking, and you know that means we'll have enough to feed an army."

"It would be my pleasure, boss."

Liam flinched upon hearing the title. "I definitely need some time to get used to you calling me boss."

"Do you prefer Captain Jones?" Emma asked, raising one eyebrow.

"God, no," Liam groaned. "Please call me that only when we are in public. It's still Liam."

"Good."

"Oh, and by the way ... what the hell happened on Friday?"

"Friday? You mean at the party?" Emma questioned, trying to sound nonchalant even though her heart raced in her chest. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Killian came home at two o'clock in the morning with one sour mood."

"I don't know." Emma shrugged her shoulders, averting her gaze back down to the papers lying on her desk. "We didn't go home together. He was fine when I left him."

"Well, then he really was only pissed because he didn't get laid."

Fortunately Liam had already turned away and didn't see Emma's mouth falling open in surprise. He didn't sleep with her? She mentally counted in her head, and realized that it would have been impossible for him to even have a quickie and be home at two o'clock.

He had gone home alone. He didn't go with her after clearly indicating to Emma that he intended to fuck the other woman.

This was interesting news. Very interesting news.

-/-

It took him only minutes on Saturday until he had cornered her in the kitchen, blocking the exit so that she couldn't flee. Not that she wanted to. But she still ignored him for a few minutes, filling the tray with plates and cutlery.

"Emma?"

She stood up on her tiptoes and reached for the wine glasses on the shelf, setting them beside the tray before she decided she had made him wait long enough and turned around to face him.

He watched her for a few moments before he said softly, "I am sorry."

"For what exactly are you sorry?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest and crossing her legs.

"You are gonna make me say it, aren't you?"

"Keep going, buddy."

"I am sorry for having been such a douchebag on Friday. I should have brought you home. After all I was the one asking you to accompany me. I am truly sorry." He sounded sincere, and he looked sincere, and then he shot her a crooked smile, and she had a hard time to not smile back. "We've been friends for a very long time, and David should probably punch me in the face for letting you go home alone. That was very ungentlemanly."

"You sure that was the only ungentlemanly thing you've done?" Emma couldn't keep herself from asking.

He averted his gaze to the ground, his hand reaching behind his ear and scratching. A telltale sign that he was nervous, and her mouth twitched.

"And I am sorry you witnessed the ... scene in the hallway," he said quietly, looking up at her again, his mouth curling up into a lopsided grin. "I am an asshole."

"A fault confessed is half redressed."

"Seriously?" he huffed. "You are going all proverbial on me now?"

The grin she had been trying to hide for a few minutes now, spread out on her face. "By the way, the champagne was delicious."

"I bet," he growled.

"Did it put a dent in your bank account?" she asked, her voice all mock concern.

"It did."

"Good."

"I deserved it."

"That you did."

"We good?"

"Maybe."

She patted his cheek as she pressed herself past him, ignoring the shivers that sizzled through her with the close body contact, and fortunately the doorbell rang in that exact moment and she rushed to open it to let Graham and Connor in.

Graham threw immediately an arm around her, hugging her against his side, and she tried to shove him away but he didn't let her. "How are we doing on this fine day, rookie?"

She chuckled, smacking the back of her hand against his chest. "Let go of me, Detective."

He smiled down at her, and she grinned up at him, pushing at him until he finally released her out of his embrace.

It had only taken a week for them to become friends. She found it refreshing to interact with a man, knowing that he would never look at her in a romantic way ever. She had found out about it the second day on the job when they had been interrupted by the ring of Graham's phone while going over some case files.

Emma was proud about the detecting skills she had already developed at college, not to mention her slightly eerie ability to know if someone was lying, so it hadn't been hard for her to discern the light flashing up in Graham's eyes as he had looked at the caller's ID, and observe the smile that had tucked at the corner of his mouth when he had taken the call. She hadn't needed to make use of her inner lie detector to know that he was lying when he told her August was just a _friend_. He was definitely more than a friend.

Chatting animatedly, they walked into the living room, completely oblivious to the gazes Killian was shooting at them.

"This is interesting." Liam leaned against the doorframe and watched the scene in front of him.

"What?" Elsa asked as she stepped beside him.

"Look at Killian."

His wife turned her head and studied her brother-in-law for a few seconds, a grin curling her mouth upwards when she faced her husband again. "He is jealous? Of Graham?"

"That's not the point here. He is jealous because a man is flirting with Emma. With _Emma_!"

"Well, she did become a beautiful woman," Elsa reasoned.

"I am not blind," Liam replied. "But she was always like a little sister to us."

"He definitely doesn't look at her as if he is his little sister."

"Definitely not."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"About Graham?" Liam chuckled, shaking his head. "Not a chance in hell. Let him suffer for a little while."

-/-

Was he jealous?

Emma couldn't believe she was seeing right. If looks could kill Graham would have dropped dead to the ground already. Didn't he know that Graham was gay? Without even a hint of bisexual tendencies?

Apparently not.

But if he was jealous, maybe ...

_Don't go there, Emma._

He could be just parading the older brother. It could mean absolutely nothing. But she was still interested in testing the theory.

Graham was an awesome conversationalist. His stories were funny as hell, and she giggled like a schoolgirl over a particular saucy story, the giggle getting stuck in her throat though when she looked up and met Killian's gaze.

Okay. That was definitely jealousy.

And just like that the butterflies started fluttering in her stomach, and a plan formed in her head.

-/-

She shouldn't have drunk the fourth glass of wine. It had definitely pushed her over the line between tipsy and the kind of drunkenness that made you do things you might regret the next morning. She was laughing about a comment Graham had made, her eyes on her supervisor as she slid one shoe off and stretched her leg out under the table.

She saw Killian stiffen out of the corner of her eyes as her foot collided with his calf, his eyes narrowing as she let her toes trail up and up, coming dangerously close to his midsection before his hand stopped her.

"What are you doing?" he hissed over the table, his fingers still wrapped tightly around her foot.

She wiggled her foot in his grip, shooting him a lopsided grin. "Just stretching."

"Stretching, my ass," he muttered under his breath, pushing her leg down from his lap, and standing up, his hands balling into fists as he walked briskly towards the kitchen to get another bottle of wine.

She had definitely had too much to drink because she couldn't stop. After a bathroom break she walked to his seat and leaned over him to reach for the bottle of wine, her hand resting on his shoulder for balance, letting the tips of her fingers ghost over the hair at the base of his neck, relishing in the fact that his body went rigid under her hand.

It was half an hour later, as Liam and Elsa disappeared in the kitchen to search for some snacks, and Graham was telling them another story, when she let her hand slip under the table, her fingers brushing over the denim of Killian's jeans as she put her hand on his thigh.

A second later his fingers tightened around hers, and he squeezed her hand so hard that she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from crying out loud. He was throwing daggers at her as she looked at him, and the part of her brain that wasn't completely drowned in alcohol yet was telling her she needed to stop before she was taking it too far.

She let her hand slid from his leg and stood up to go to the bathroom to splash some water into her face and cool herself down. Hopefully the cold water would also help her clear her head.

She pressed a towel against her face, and took in some deep breaths. She should probably go home now, before she would jump him in front of everyone. One last look into the mirror, and she decided she had herself under control again and walked out of the door, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw him.

He was waiting for her outside the bathroom, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. But she saw a muscle tick in his jaw as he grinded his teeth together, his voice harsh as he said, "You have to stop this, Swan."

"Stop what?"

"The foot, and the hand, and ... just keep them to yourself."

"Why?" She leaned closer, cocking her head and licking her lips. "Are you not man enough to handle it?"

Her heart jumped into her throat as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. For a second she hoped he would just push her against the wall and kiss her. But he had apparently better control because he didn't pull her in for a kiss, just pulled her really, really close.

"I could handle you just fine, Emma. But I don't want to," he growled and pushed her away, walking back to the living room without giving her another glance.

Emma slumped against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. She wanted him. No matter how. If she would not at least have him for one night she would always wonder, and she didn't want to wonder anymore.

She just needed to change strategies, she would ...

She startled as a hand suddenly cupped her jaw, and she opened her eyes to see him only inches away from her, his leg brushing against hers, and the look in his eyes shot hot lust through her veins.

"I can't," he rasped, his fingers tightening around her jaw before he loosened his grip and skimmed his thumb over her lips. His hips rocked forward, and she felt his arousal pressing into her. "Don't torture me, Emma. I can't ... we can't ..." He took in a deep breath, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her knees go all weak. "You are the little sister of my best friend. You are off limits. I ... it can never happen. Never."

He was already half way down the hall before she could breathe again. She could just stand there, leaning against the wall, unable to move as she stared after him.

She needed to have him. She just needed to.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

What did he do? Why the hell did he go back? Why the hell did he let it get so far?

He should have told her to stop her advances the moment her foot touched his leg. But a part of him had been longing for her touch, waiting for her to reach out for him again. And God ... he almost hadn't stopped her when her fingers had crept onto his thigh and come dangerously close to brush against his cock which had already hardened the moment her hand had touched him.

And then he went and told her he couldn't touch her. Not that he didn't want to touch her. Not that he didn't feel any lust for her.

No.

He went and told her she shouldn't torture him anymore.

"You bloody idiot," he groaned, letting his head fall back into the pillow. "You set yourself up for it now."

Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered if it was possible to avoid her all together. But he knew he couldn't achieve that. David was his best friend, and he already grew suspicious that Killian didn't show up at their apartment as frequently as he used to.

There was no way he could stop seeing her. He just had to find a way to keep her at arm's length.

Somehow.

-/-

_Arm's length, my ass._

He pressed himself further into the car door to get at least a few inches between their bodies. But of course it wasn't working.

They were sitting in the backseat of Liam's car. David, Emma and he. And all the prayers he had sent to heaven that David would sit down in the middle had been futile.

Her leg was pressing into his, her fingers were only inches away, and her perfume was wafting around him, her body heat was burning through his clothes, and he balled his hand into a fist, praying for the ride to be over already.

And then the car drove over a bump of the road, jolting them around, and her hand landed on his thigh. He let out a strangled growl, and her eyes shot to his. He could swear her mouth twitched when her fingers stayed on his leg just a moment too long before she pulled her hand back.

-/-

God, she was doing this on purpose.

He had finally survived the ride of hell, just to be standing in the line to get popcorn with her body swaying into his while she was talking to David, and he wanted to throttle her as she tilted her hips just this small fraction and her ass pressed against his midsection.

He didn't know how he survived the next minutes, only letting out a relieved breath when they finally walked into the cinema. But when they got to their row and Emma walked in directly behind him, he needed to suppress a groan. She would sit beside him the whole movie, and he really had no clue how he should be able to get through that. But it got even worse when they reached their seats.

_No! _

_No! No! No! No! No!_

A love seat? He was supposed to sit beside her in a love seat during the whole movie?

Torture. This was just pure torture.

He couldn't concentrate on the movie. He was just staring straight ahead without seeing anything. Too aware of her body so close to his in the relative darkness of the cinema, and it was pure hell.

He almost jumped out of the seat when her fingers suddenly brushed over the back of his hand, and he shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, but she wasn't looking at him.

For a moment he wondered if it had been an accident, and she didn't really wanted to touch him. But then the tips of her fingers skimmed over his skin again, and a shiver ran down his spine.

He couldn't just jump up and rush out of the cinema. He didn't want to make a scene. He just stiffened, trying to ignore the jolts of electricity her touch shot through his body.

Minutes passed with her fingers ghosting over his skin every once in a while, and he was close to exploding. But instead of finally biting the bullet, and getting the hell away from her, his hand moved on its own accord, and he slipped his fingers between hers.

She stiffened. But just for one short moment before she tightened her grip around his fingers, a small smile pulling up the corner of her mouth when she skimmed her thumb over his hand.

He shouldn't have done it. He knew that. But he couldn't pull away.

And he held her hand the whole two hours.

-/-

He didn't have the right to be jealous. But he was.

He wanted to go over there and haul Graham away from Emma, and punch him in the face.

"Easy, brother. The green monster doesn't suit you."

"What?" Killian asked, his eyes still on the pair at the other side of the lawn.

"You should work on your pokerface," Liam replied. "Everyone who knows you can see that you are jealous."

"I am not," Killian scoffed, and forced himself to look away.

"What makes me wonder …" Liam folded his arms over his chest, and shot Killian a broad smile. "Since when did you want Emma?"

"I don't want her," Killian said, but his brother only raised one eyebrow, clearly knowing that Killian was lying.

"Right," Liam drawled, nodding his head towards Emma as he added. "You are not devouring her with your eyes every time you see her. You clearly don't want anything to do with her."

"She is the little sister of my best friend."

"And that's what is holding you back?" Liam asked, shaking his head. "You are an idiot."

He probably was. Because the lust he felt for her just increased every time he saw her instead of cooling down, and he feared that it would just be a matter of time until he snapped. And would land in the hospital because David had beaten him to a pulp.

He ignored the scrutinizing look Liam was throwing at him, and turned his gaze back to Emma, watching a strange man joining them, and Killian already wondered if he would start flirting with Emma too as the other man leaned forward and ... kissed Graham. Right on the mouth.

Killian stood there shell-shocked, gulping hard once before he turned around to his brother. "You could have told me?"

"Where would have been the fun in that?" Liam grinned from ear to ear and slapped his hand on Kilian's back, making him stumble forward a step before Liam strolled over to Elsa and swept her up into his arms and planted a loud kiss on her lips.

Killian just rolled his eyes, knowing the performance was to tease him, and he walked over to the ice bucket with beer and pulled a bottle out. Taking a sip, he looked back over to Emma, noticing that she was sitting alone on the bench. He didn't know what got into him, but before he realized what he was doing, he was already walking towards her and sitting down beside her, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Did what on purpose?" she asked, and cocked her head.

"Using Graham."

"And for what exactly am I using Graham?"

"To make me jealous."

"So, let me get this straight," she said slowly, her intense gaze not leaving his as she continued in a firm voice. "You won't touch me. There will never ever be anything between us, but you don't want anyone else to touch me either?"

She had a point. He had no right to accuse her of anything.

"Forget I asked," he mumbled, averting his gaze to the ground.

"Will do."

He couldn't get away from her fast enough, feeling like a complete fool as he rushed over to Robin. Hopefully his friend was able to pull him into a conversation that would dull the ache in his stomach for a certain blond woman. A woman he apparently wasn't able to get out of his head.

-/-

She rushed down the stairs and around the corner, smacking right into someone, and the feeling of déjà vu was hitting her in the same moment she realized that it was indeed Killian she had smacked into. Again.

She wasn't in the mood to deal with him right now. She had promised herself she would stay away from him for a while before he would drive her insane.

But apparently fate had another idea.

She wanted to push away, but his arms were suddenly around her waist and he pressed her into his body.

"Don't move," he whispered, and she didn't.

She could feel the muscles of his arms tremble under her fingers, and she closed her eyes as she heard him take in a deep breath, her hair fluttering as he exhaled. The tension between them was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and she didn't want to say anything, or even move one inch. Afraid it would all be over if she dared to even breathe.

She gasped when his lips suddenly skimmed over the sensitive skin directly under her ear, her fingers tightening around his arms as he rasped. "God, Emma. You are killing me."

She wanted to respond, to tell him he was killing her too. But the moment she opened her mouth he pushed away and turned around, leaving her completely shaken behind as he rushed out of the door.

-/-

He was hanging onto the last thread. He knew that. The incident in the hallway should have never happened. He shouldn't have held her; he shouldn't have breathed her in; he shouldn't have skimmed his lips over her skin; he shouldn't have relished in the feeling of her body so close to his.

Alone the thought of her shivering in his arms when he ghosted his lips over her neck aroused him, and he growled, turning the cold shower back to warm, and reaching down.

He needed to take care of that before he even could attempt to find any sleep tonight. Leaning his forearm against the tiles, he let his head fall onto his arm and wrapped his fingers around his cock, imagining green eyes and a breathy voice, and blond hair flowing around her head.

He tightened his grip, jerking faster, his breath becoming erratic as he imagined her fingers wrapped around him, and her name spilled over his lips as the orgasm hit him hard and his release burst out of him.

-/-

Sometimes she questioned her own sanity. Because what had happened today in the hallway almost made her snap. He had just held her. Barely moved. His lips brushing over her neck, his breath tickling her skin. His scent had been everywhere, his warmth enveloping her, and it had been the most arousing thing she had ever experienced.

She tilted her face into the water, contemplating if she should just turn it to ice cold until her fingers and lips turned blue. Maybe shivering violently with the cold would erase the heat she still felt tingling through her body.

But instead she reached for her nipple, twirling it, tucking at it. Leaning back against the tiles, she closed her eyes, imagining his mouth closing around her nipple, and she slid her hand down her stomach, brushing her fingers through her folds, gathering the wetness there and drawing her fingers back up, rubbing them over her clit.

She could swear she could hear his lilting voice in her ear, and shivers ran over her body as she flicked her fingers faster over her clit, chasing her release, and his name slipped over her lips in a breathy moan when the waves of her orgasm crashed down on her.

-/-

He needed some air. Or a cold shower. Or both.

He rushed towards the bathroom. He just needed a minute to himself.

But before he could close the door behind him it was pushed open and Emma slipped in, pressing the door shut behind her and turning the lock.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he hissed, stumbling back against the wall to get as much space between them as possible.

"Do you really have to use the bathroom?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"No," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "I just need to get away from you."

"Yeah. I figured that."

"David is only in the living room," he growled. "Don't you think he could come looking for us any moment?"

"Maybe it would be easier if he would find out this way." Emma replied, and took a step towards him.

"There is nothing to find out," he said, holding up his hand in the hope it would stop her approach. He didn't know if he could keep his control if she would touch him. "And you should leave. Right now."

"Okay," she replied, and he exhaled a breath of relief. "But answer me one question first."

"If it makes you leave … sure. Shoot."

"Why exactly am I off limits?"

-/-

He screwed his eyes shut, clearly fighting for control, and she almost closed the gap between them, and pulled him in for a kiss. But then he opened his eyes, and met her gaze.

"David would kill me if I would fu..." He caught himself, apparently not wanting to use the f-word in front of her. "If we would share a bed."

"Share a bed? You mean if we would fuck like there is no tomorrow?" She saw him jerk in surprise, but she wasn't willing to sugar-coat it. The sexual tension that was vibrating between them every time they met couldn't be denied, and there was no way this wouldn't end in one hell of a sex marathon when he finally gave in. "Because believe me, Killian. The moment you finally stop fighting it we will probably not even make it to the bed."

"Stop torturing me," he whispered.

"But it is so much fun," she replied, stepping closer until only a few inches were separating them, and she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Emma?"

"Yes?"

"Please, I ..."

She stood up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his, just once. He stiffened for a moment, and she leaned back, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes found his and she was hit with the intensity of his gaze.

"Fuck." He hauled her into his body, his mouth on hers a second later, hard and demanding.

Everything was spinning out of control in the blink of an eye. His mouth was devouring hers, and she grabbed his hair, holding on to him as if her life depended on it.

His hand was suddenly kneading her breast, and she moaned. Her own hand shooting down between their bodies to palm his erection, and he growled, his scruff burning her skin as his kiss turned even hungrier.

Her fingers were flying over his pants, tugging at his belt and lowering the zipper, both groaning loudly when she pulled his cock out of its confines and wrapped her fingers firmly around him.

She needed to see him. She needed to see what she was doing to him, and she wrenched her lips away from his and stepped out of his embrace, not loosening her grip around his erection for one second.

He looked utterly wrecked as she trailed her hand up and down his length, his face flushed, his eyes closed, his mouth half open as he let out a soft groan and his hips rocked into her touch. She was just about to drop down on her knees and still her curiosity and finally find out how he tasted when his eyes snapped open and his hand shot down to hers.

"No."

She had never seen his eyes turning into this shade of blue, and her stomach clenched when she saw him fighting against his primal urges, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she waited, hoping he would make the right decision and finally give up the fight.

But then his jaw tightened, determination chasing away all signs of hunger in his eyes, and she sighed inwardly.

"No. I ... this ... No."

She knew she just needed to pull him back into a kiss, and he would probably falter. But she didn't want it like this. She wanted him to make the actual choice. To choose her. To take her because he couldn't live one minute longer without knowing how being in her felt like.

Opening her fingers slowly, she nodded and his shoulders sagged with relief when she let her hand drop down and stepped back. But she wasn't quite finished with him yet.

Trailing her eyes down his body, she fixated her gaze on his rigid arousal jutting out of his pants, and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down on it when his cock jerked.

"Emma, you have to stop this."

"I am not doing anything."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"As if you want to drop down on your knees and give me the blow-job of my life," he rasped, and she just cocked her head and grinned up at him. His eyes narrowed and he drew in a sharp breath when he realized that was exactly what she would like to do. "Fuck. I need to get out of here."

He fumbled with the zipper of his pants, having a hard time to close it over his still rock hard erection. He was avoiding her gaze, mumbling a string of curses until he finally got his clothes back in order and was able to leave the bathroom.

"Killian?" He froze with his hand on the doorknob, and she stepped up to him and raised herself on her tiptoes, whispering into his ear. "This isn't over."

"I ..." he murmured, his fingers tightening around the doorknob. "I gotta go."

She wanted to laugh out loud as he almost tore the door off its hinges when he rushed out of the room. But her whole body was throbbing with unsated lust, and her skin still prickled where his scruff had abraded it, and the laughter turned into a long drawn out sigh.

"You are one stubborn man, Killian Jones."

She would have stepped back and left him alone if he didn't want her. But that was clearly not the case, and his attempts to withstand her needed to stop. She would make sure of that.

* * *

**You are all amazing! AMAZING! Thank you!**

**This is definitely now my most popular story. I still can't believe how many of you guys like it, and all your screaming and flailing in the reviews makes me definitely write faster. So keep them coming. :-)**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
**

"So tell me, Robin. How did you do it?" Killian asked, putting the cup of coffee on Robin's desk, and sitting down beside it.

"How did I do what?" Robin questioned, leaning back in his chair.

"Resist the temptation."

"What makes you think I can give you advice in that department?"

"Come on, Locksley," Killian said, rolling his eyes at his friend. "I know the boss wanted you, and you wanted her, and it didn't happen because you said you wouldn't mix business with pleasure. So just give me a few tips. I am desperate here, man."

"Sorry, Killian." Robin shrugged one shoulder, and reached for the cup of coffee, not meeting Killian's gaze as he added. "I would like to help you, but I can't."

"What do you mean you can't? Just ..." Killian trailed off when he looked closer at his friend, sudden realization dawning on him. "No way! When?"

"You remember that night I had to work late about three months ago?" Robin replied, taking a sip of his coffee before he looked up and met Killian's gaze. "I was tired, and she suddenly appeared in the doorway of her office and just looked at me, only saying my name once, and I just stood up and went over to her, and it just happened."

"So you two have an affair now?" Killian asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So to speak."

Robin was fidgeting around in his chair with a sheepish expression on his face when Killian called it an affair, making it clear that this was more than an affair.

"What is going on here, Robin?"

Robin stiffened, rubbing one hand over his face before he mumbled under his breath. "I think I might be falling in love."

"With Regina Mills?" Killian exclaimed.

"Lower your voice, Jones," Robin hissed, looking around frantically over the open office space to see if anyone had heard him. But fortunately everyone in the near vicinity was too busy screaming into their phones, and nobody was looking their way.

"Seriously?" Killian asked quietly.

"Yes. Seriously."

"Good luck with that. She is a viper."

"You are one to talk," Robin huffed. "Judging from your questions, you are in knee-deep yourself, and don't find a way out."

"Touché," Killian replied.

"So what are you gonna do?"

"Trying to avoid her as much as I can."

-/-

"Wow, you two were busy," Ruby said, a wolfish grin curling up her lips as she added. "And you still haven't banged?"

"I can't think about anything else anymore. When I am at work I am distracted, but the moment I'm out of the door of the precinct, I can only think about how much I want him. This is insane, Ruby." Emma let out a deep sigh, tilting her head to meet her best friend's gaze. "For years I thought he is the love of my life. But I am not even sure anymore if love has anything to do with how I feel about him right now."

"You mean wanting to jump him and fuck him all night?"

Emma let out a chuckle that ended in a groan. "Am I a bad person for only thinking about him in bed?"

"No. You are not," Ruby said vehemently. "He is hot as hell and probably very good in bed. I would have taken him out on a ride too if he wouldn't belong to you."

"Ruby!"

"What?" Ruby replied, trying to look innocent but failing. "I am just telling you the truth."

"So you are telling me I should just get it over with?"

"The wondering, the need … it will never stop if you don't have him at least once. Take him out for a test drive."

"Would you stop talking like that," Emma growled, grasping the glass in her hand tighter as images of Killian moving over her flashed up in her mind.

"Why? You want to booty call him right now?"

"I need another drink," Emma mumbled and jumped up from the couch to mix herself another cocktail.

Her hands were trembling as she cut the lemons, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her body to relax.

Ruby was right. This would never stop until she had him.

-/-

She opened the door for him, and though he had tried to prepare himself for it, he couldn't keep his body from reacting when his eyes fell on her.

God, she was gorgeous.

"The plumber is here," he joked, and stepped into the apartment.

"Thanks for coming."

"No problem."

He walked towards the kitchen and crouched down at the sink, ready to stick his head in as Emma's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Killian."

Something in her tone made him pull back, and he turned around on his heels, looking up at her.

"For what?"

"There is no leak," she told him, a blush rising up on her cheeks. "I just wanted to see you. I need to talk to you."

"You are kidding me, right?" He furrowed his brows and straightened himself, walking back towards the door. He needed to get out of here as fast as possible before he would shake her, and touching her would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

"Just tell me, Killian. Did it help?"

He should have just kept walking, but of course he didn't. He didn't get the hell out of the apartment, but turned around to face her. He was an idiot.

"Pardon me?"

"Did it help not seeing me? Did it make the want go away? The need?"

He wanted to lie, knew he should lie. But looking at her, he couldn't and he let out a soft sigh before he breathed. "No, it didn't."

"Good. Because it didn't work for me either."

She came closer and closer, and he knew he should leave. He knew staying would test his will power beyond measure. She was gorgeous. Like always. Even wearing worn sweatpants and a washed out shirt.

She was only inches away from him now, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders as she leaned up and tilted her head, her hair brushing against his chin, her breath tickling over his neck.

"God, you have to stop this, Emma."

He wanted to push her away but he couldn't. Her lips trailed a path of fire down his throat, her hand slipping under his shirt, her nails scraping lightly over his stomach and her fingers ghosted along the hem of his pants, his erection throbbing painfully against its confines.

"Bloody hell, Swan."

"Do you have a problem, Jones?" she asked teasingly, her voice raspy with lust.

She would kill him. One of these days she would kill him. Or her brother would kill him. When he found out what he was doing with his little sister.

He had tried. He had tried really, really hard to stay away from her, but she wanted him, and he didn't stand a chance.

But at least he hadn't slept with her yet. Until now he had somehow managed to stop her before it went too far. But each time it got harder to resist the temptation, and he groaned, smashing the back of his head against the wall as her hand pressed hard against his arousal.

"Emma, please. You have to let me go," he almost whimpered, and he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away with an excruciating effort. Hell, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her against the wall. Really, really hard.

"David isn't coming home tonight."

_Sweet Mother Jesus. _

"I want to feel you inside of me, Killian. I need to wrap my mouth around your cock and suck you dry."

"God, Emma!"

His fingers trembled around her wrist, and she shifted, pressing her perfect breasts against his chest and he let out a defeated sigh, letting go of her hand.

"I'm gonna die," he growled as he swirled her around and slammed her against the wall, his mouth crashing down on hers.

"Finally," she mumbled under his lips, her fingers closing over the buttons of his shirt, and with a jerk she ripped it apart. "You've let me wait long enough."

-/-

She lost her breath as her fingers finally curled in the hair covering his chest, the hot jolts of lust rushing through her making her knees go all weak. His fingers were everywhere at once it seemed. Pulling her shirt over her head, flipping her bra open, yanking her pants and panties down as his mouth closed over her nipple.

She heard his boots slamming against the wall, and her fingers fumbled with his belt, a curse tumbling over her lips as it refused to open, and she almost tore it apart in her need to wrap her fingers around his arousal. She could feel it hard and long against her palm, and she let out a guttural growl as his pants finally gave way and she could reach inside and pull him out.

She was so far gone that she couldn't think straight anymore. His scruff was burning her skin as he kissed her hungrily, and she just needed to feel him inside of her.

Right now. Right here.

He apparently shared her desperate need. His fingers were suddenly closing around her hand and pulling it away, and a moment later she felt his pants falling down to the ground and the telltale sound of plastic ripping, and she shivered, knowing she was finally about to find out how he felt inside of her.

His hands were back, closing around her thighs and pulling her up, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, she could feel him brushing against her entrance.

She sucked in a breath as his fingers skimmed through her folds, her walls clenching as he growled. "So wet. God, Emma. You are soaking wet."

She could only moan in answer as he slammed into her, burying himself inside her until the hilt. And then he stopped. She was panting, staring into his wide blown eyes, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her against the wall. He wasn't moving, and he was killing her. The feeling of him inside of her was killing her. The hungry need that was blazing out of his eyes was killing her. This was too much. Not enough. She couldn't breathe anymore.

"God, you feel so good around me."

"Killian, I need you to move. Please. I can't ..."

She actually whimpered as he pulled out of her, hovering at her entrance what seemed like an eternity before he thrust back in. She tilted her hips to take him in even deeper, hoping he would finally give her what she wanted, and fuck her into oblivion.

He stopped again, but only for a second before he started to move, and finally gave her what she had wanted for so long. Hard and deep thrusts, every plunge coming faster and faster, throwing her into a whirlwind of sensations that made it hard to breathe.

She almost tumbled over, she was only a hairsbreadth away from her climax as he stopped again and rasped in her ear that she should hold on to him.

They left a path of chaos behind, books and papers falling to the ground when he carried her to the bedroom, setting her down on the wardrobe in the hall to thrust deep into her a few times, as if he couldn't wait until they reached the bedroom.

She had already been close the moment he started fucking her against the wall, and when he leaned down now and sucked her nipple into his mouth, his fingers finding her clit and flicking over it, she lost it and cried out loud as the waves crushed down over her, his mouth and fingers working her over while he stayed still inside of her, letting her walls squeeze him.

She was still riding on the high, throwing her arms sloppily around his neck as he hauled her into his arms again, and stumbled to the bedroom, crashing down on the bed with her, pinning her against the mattress as he slid back in.

It was everything and more. She didn't expect it to be that good. After all it was their first time together, and normally it took a few times until the guy knew her soft spots, knew how to drive her crazy.

But Killian didn't need several times. He was already driving her insane the first time.

His fingers were tightening around hers, pressing her hands into the mattress as he moved atop of her, inside of her. Catching her lips in a searing kiss, he drove deep into her. Again. And again. And again.

"Come on, Emma." His voice was pure liquid fire, the words slithering through her, setting her body ablaze, her stomach coiling with the beginnings of her next orgasm, and she wanted desperately for him to come with her. She needed him to fall over the edge with her.

"Only with you," she whispered, letting out a throaty moan when he tilted his hips and hit the spot deep inside of her. Her vision was blurring, her breath coming out in sharp gasps as she teetered on the edge, reluctant to fall. "I'm not coming without you."

He growled, a sound that reached deep inside of her and pushed her over. Her body arched up from the mattress, every muscle going rigid for a second before she shattered into a million pieces, her breath catching in her throat as he kept slamming into her, and shivers ran over her whole body, her walls fluttering around him, and then she felt him stiffen, watching him throw his head back in ecstasy as he pushed his hips forward one last time as he followed her.

His body crashed down on her a moment later, and she couldn't breathe properly but she didn't want him to move. Wrapping her legs around him, she contracted her muscles, chuckling softly as he jerked when her walls tightened around his softening cock.

"You are going to be the death of me, Swan," he murmured against her neck, and she skimmed her fingers down his sweaty back.

"But not tonight, Jones. I still have use for you tonight."

He pushed himself up and met her gaze, her mouth tilting up into a grin when she saw his flushed cheeks, and the sated look in his eyes.

"Is that so?" he drawled.

"I hope your recovering time is good. I'm gonna take everything you are willing to give tonight."

"Just give me a minute," he mumbled and rolled off her. Reaching down, he pulled the condom off and discarded it before he turned back to her and pulled her into his arms. "Just one minute."

-/-

"I hope you've enjoyed this," he mumbled against her hair, unable to move one muscle after they had just gone another round, and her breath brushed over his chest as she chuckled.

"Fishing for compliments, huh?"

"No. I just wanted to make sure that it was worth it."

"He is not gonna kill you," Emma scoffed, pushing herself up from his chest and glaring down at him.

She was so beautiful with her tousled hair and her eyes shining bright with satisfied lust, her lips still slightly swollen from their kisses, and her nipples brushed over his arm, new flames of need rushing through him.

"If he is not gonna kill me, he will beat me to a pulp for deflowering his little sister."

"Please." Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm twenty-one. I've been deflowered a long time ago and he knows it."

"But he is my best friend," Killian said hoarsely, lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek. "And you're his little sister. I should have never touched you."

"Thank God, you did."

"We can't do this, Emma. It's not right."

Her fingers tightened around his necklace, and she lowered her head until her lips were only inches away from his. "Hell, we can."

As her lips touched his he couldn't resist burying his hand in her hair to keep her close as he kissed her back.

He knew David would punch him out cold if he ever found out, but her touch was intoxicating, her body pressing against his burning every coherent thought out of his brain, and he flipped her on her back, his kiss turning hungry and passionate as his hand moved down her body and between her legs.

One night. He would let himself have this one night.

* * *

**Thank you so, so, so, so much! You have no idea how happy you make me with all your reviews, favorites and follows. Thank you!**

**Oh, and a guest reviewer asked me if there will be angst in this story and ... yes, there will be angst. This story will be divided in two parts, and there will be a lot of angst in the second part. :-)**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

She woke up when he tried to slip out of the bed as silent as possible, and she let herself admire his back for a few seconds, feeling her body ache at all the right places, before she reached out, brushing her fingers over his skin and making him jump.

"Wanna sneak out, Mr. Jones?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes raking over her exposed chest, and she felt desire coil hot in her stomach, and her nipples reacting to his heated gaze.

"I didn't want to wake you," he murmured, and she propped herself up on one elbow, letting her hand drop to his thigh.

"But I am awake now," she breathed, stretching her fingers, the tips brushing against his already hardening length.

"I need to go, Emma. Before ..."

She interrupted him by reaching up and wrapping her hand around his neck, pulling him down to her. He caught himself before he crashed down on her, his mouth inches away from hers.

"David won't come back until the evening," she whispered, trailing her fingers over his ribcage. He trembled above her, and she could feel him long and hard against her thigh, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him right now. "I need you in me one last time, Killian."

Reaching between their bodies, she tightened her fingers around him and started to pump him slowly, his throaty groan shooting sparks of lust through her body, and she almost sighed out in relief when he bent his head and closed his lips over hers, his hips bucking into her hand as he kissed her hungrily.

"One last time," he mumbled against her lips, his fingers trailing down her neck and over her chest, finding her nipple and twirling it slowly. "One last time."

He actually gave her two orgasms before he entered her again, and when he pushed into her she almost screamed his name; the sensations of his thick cock filling her and pushing her to another climax almost too heady to keep in, and she dug her nails into his skin when the orgasm crashed down on her, his name coming out on a moan as he stiffened inside of her.

He rolled down from her moments later and discarded the condom before turning back to her. She reached for his hand, and pulled his arm over her waist, intertwining their hands and closing her eyes. He scooted closer after a brief moment of hesitation and spooned her from behind, his breath brushing over her neck as he pressed a soft kiss onto her skin.

She knew the next time she woke up he would probably be gone. So she would just cherish every minute she could spend in his arms.

-/-

As she suspected she was alone when she woke up again. Turning around, she buried her face in the pillow he'd slept on, inhaling deeply. Sighing softly, she pushed herself up and slipped out of bed, knowing she needed to face the day. She could hardly stay in bed all day, and smell the sheets.

After putting on sweatpants and a shirt she walked slowly towards the kitchen, contemplating what she wanted for breakfast as a sudden wave of already brewed coffee hit her nostrils, and she furrowed her brows, wondering what her brother was doing home so early.

But then she rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Killian standing at the oven with a spatula in his hand, wearing only his pants and nothing else.

"You are still here?" She didn't want to make it sound like a question, but for a brief moment she wondered if she was hallucinating, until he turned around and shot her a lopsided grin.

"Yes, I am," he replied, waving towards the pan on the oven. "Want some pancakes?"

She slipped on a stool, watching him working in their kitchen as if he was living here; the domesticity of the whole scenario making her heart leap into her throat.

"If you don't mind me asking ..." Emma started to speak as he put the plate with pancakes in front of her, and settled down himself after pouring both of them a cup of coffee. "Why _are_ you still here?"

He took a sip of his coffee before meeting her gaze. "Because I was fooling myself last night."

"Care to elaborate."

"I was so adamant to keep you away from me because I knew having you once wouldn't be enough," he explained.

"To be exact you did have me more than once," Emma shot back.

"And I still remember every second of it," he replied, his voice low and husky, shooting shivers down her spine.

"Good."

"I can't stay away from you, Emma," he said softly, pulling a pancake on his plate and reaching for the maple syrup. "But I don't want to let anyone know about us."

The blow came completely out of the blue, but she shouldn't have been surprised about it.

"There is no need to tell your brother about this. He will just flip, and it isn't necessary to aggravate him when this will blow over eventually."

It shouldn't hurt that he was convinced what existed between them was only lust and would cease eventually. But it still did. It was more to her. Always had been. But apparently it wasn't more to him. At least not yet. But the sex was fantastic, and she wasn't willing to give that up yet.

"Sure," she replied calmly, surprised that her voice wasn't shaking. "Let's keep it a secret."

They were eating in silence as they suddenly heard keys in the front door, and David's voice shouting her name a few seconds later. "Emma?"

Killian froze, and the look on his face almost made her laugh out loud. But before she could say anything Killian stormed out of the kitchen and into her room. She stared after him with her mouth agape, shaking her head as she heard her window slide open

"Seriously?" she muttered, rolling her eyes as she heard him sliding down the roof outside of her window.

"Do you have someone over, Emma?" David peeked into the kitchen, his eyes falling on the second cup of coffee and plate.

"Not anymore," Emma replied, pulling Killian's plate over and skewering the rest of his pancakes. "He wasn't fond of meeting my older brother."

David was furrowing his brows, and watched her for a few moments before he turned around without saying a word.

Killian was wrong. David wouldn't mind at all. Despite being her older brother, he did let her make her own decisions. But for now she would play along with keeping it a secret. Until Killian was ready to face the fact that there might be more between them than just sex.

-/-

"It suits you," Liam said as he walked from room to room in Killian's new apartment.

"It was time for me to get my own place again," Killian replied.

"So you can finally invite Emma over."

"I can what?" Killian stammered, completely taken aback by Liam's suggestion.

"Emma. You know … David's little sister," Liam spoke in a teasing voice, and Killian cursed inwardly.

"I am not seeing Emma," Killian replied, almost blurting out that he was just fucking her, but catching himself at the last second. That was definitely an information his brother didn't need to have.

"Bad for you, little brother."

"Younger brother," Killian corrected him out of reflex, but Liam just chuckled, patting him on the shoulder before he left him to unpack the rest of his stuff.

Hours later he was sitting on the last box, fiddling with his phone, his thumb brushing over the display, hovering over her name for a moment before he let out a defeated groan, and hit the message icon.

He only sent her the address of his new apartment. He didn't know what else he should say. Cringing inwardly when he realized that sending her only the address made it look like a desperate booty call. What it was after all. Now he could only hope she would come, and put an end to his misery.

-/-

"Hey," she said hoarsely when he opened the door, and she wondered if it sounded as needy to him as it sounded to her. But damn … she had missed him.

"Hey," he answered softly.

They were standing stock still for a moment, just staring in each other's eyes, and then they suddenly moved simultaneously, their bodies crashing together, his mouth closing over hers greedily.

It had only been three days since he had fled out of the window of their apartment, but the desire was burning hot between them. Their clothes were off in seconds, strewn all over the bedroom floor, their bodies grinding desperately together, and she was trembling with lust when he pushed her back and pointed towards the bed.

"On your knees, Emma," he rasped, his eyes hooded with passion as he drew his tongue over his bottom lip. "I want to take you from behind. I want to push into you as deep as I can. I want to hear you scream for mercy. Scream for more."

A zing of hot lust went straight to her core, and she walked slowly towards the bed and climbed up, kneeling on it and staring back at him over her shoulder. "Then take me, Killian."

The breath hitched in her throat as he sauntered over to her, his cock bobbing against his stomach, and she licked her lips, unable to look away from it.

"Like what you see, love," Killian drawled, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly.

"I would prefer it if I can't see it but feel it."

"That can be arranged."

She watched him stepping closer, a moan slipping over her lips as he lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers through her folds.

"Always so wet for me," Killian rasped, pushing one long finger into her, sliding it in and out of her ever so slowly, spreading her juices over her clit.

She jerked forward as she suddenly felt his mouth on her entrance. His thumb rubbing circles over her clit while his tongue pushed into her.

"You taste so fucking good, Emma. So fucking good."

God, she was burning. Rocking her hips backwards, she practically shoved her core into his face. "God, yes. Just like that."

He licked her to a mindblowing climax, and she was still quivering with the aftershocks, panting into the sheets when he lined himself up and slammed into her with one swift move. Her fingers closed around the sheets, the breath whooshing out of her in harsh gasps as he plunged into her. Every thrust as deep as he could get, and she moaned loudly, feeling the next climax building inside of her.

He didn't slow down in the slightest, his hips slapping against her ass over and over again and his fingers were digging into her skin, grasping her waist in an almost too tight grip to keep her steady so that he could hit the spot deep inside of her with each stroke, driving her insane.

She was pleading with him, curses spilling over her lips as he pounded mercilessly into her. Her knuckles turned stark white as she clutched her fingers around the sheet, her walls clamping down on him moments later, fluttering around him as the climax rushed through her, and her elbows gave out under her as he kept slamming into her, her name echoing through the room when he came after a few more thrusts, his body crashing down on hers and pressing her into the mattress as he jerked inside of her.

It took some time for them to pick themselves up again after that, their movements awkward and slow as they put on some clothes and stumbled into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

It didn't really surprise her that they only managed to eat one slice of bread before he lifted her up on the table and kissed her again, his fingers wandering under his shirt, the only thing she was wearing beside her panties, and trailing up her thighs.

"Killian? You home?"

They both froze, Killian's hand still under the shirt, his thumb hovering over her clit.

"Shit!" Killian exclaimed, stepping back hastily and pulling her off the table. "I forgot I gave him a key."

He looked around frantically as David's footsteps came closer. "Killian?"

Killian pushed her towards the bedroom, his eyes falling on the cupboard and he shoved her towards it, yanking the door open and pushing his clothes aside.

"You've got to be kidding me," Emma growled, not believing that he wanted to hide her in the cupboard as if she was his dirty little secret.

"Get in there," he huffed, pushing her inside.

"You are gonna pay for this," she gritted out through clenched teeth when he closed the door into her face and left her in complete darkness.

For a moment she contemplated to just walk out, and put an end to all this secrecy, but then she decided that telling David like this was probably a bad idea, when it was clear as rain that Killian and she just had had sex. After all she was only wearing his shirt and her panties. There was no way they could explain that away.

Sighing, she slumped down on the floor and pulled her legs towards her chin. She heard their mumbled voices outside for a minute, and then the click of the door shutting closed. She waited a few moments to be sure they had left the apartment before she scrambled to her feet and opened the door slowly and stepped out.

Walking towards his bed, she contemplated how she could make him pay, and when she slipped back into her clothes and threw his shirt over a chair she was suddenly hit by an idea, and smirking, she reached for the shirt and folded it, stuffing it into her bag.

"Payback is a bitch, Killian Jones."

* * *

**For everyone who is dreading the angst ... I will end the first part of this story on a ** _'And they lived happily ever after'_ ** note. So you can stop reading there then. For the ones who love angst ... I will give you plenty of it in the second part. And of course this story will have a happy ending. All my multichapter stories do. :-)**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

It had been a while since they had a chance to spend an evening playing poker together, and Killian relaxed into his chair, reaching for the cigar and pulling in a long drag, puffing smoke circles out of his mouth as he reached for his cards.

It was also the first time he was not feeling completely weird to be in the same room as his best friend while keeping it a secret that he was sleeping with his little sister. Not to mention that she was worming her way into his life more and more. Now he was already thinking about her during guy's night, and the fact that she was always in his thoughts now gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach.

His phone was buzzing and he pulled it out of his pocket, sliding his thumb over the screen to unlock it while he stared at the cards in his hands. The cigar almost dropped out of his mouth when he opened the message from Emma.

It was a picture of her. He couldn't see her head, only her upper torso and her thighs, and he gulped hard as he squinted his eyes and read the caption.

_Wondered where your shirt went?_

He dropped the cards on the table, and put the cigar back into the ashtray, taking a quick look around to see if anyone was watching him. But they were all engrossed in their cards, and he typed a quick reply.

_I figured you've taken it hostage._

He already wanted to put the phone back when it buzzed in his hand again, and he needed to bite his tongue to not groan out loud when he read her message.

_I wanted to smell you while I'm getting myself off._

"Hey, Jones." David's voice yanked him back to the room, and he shifted on his chair, cursing inwardly when he felt how uncomfortable tight his pants already were. "You with us?"

_Damn you, Swan._

He couldn't send her a reply as long as David was watching him, and he nodded towards his friend, and shoved three cards towards him. "I'll take three."

His phone was lighting up with another message, and he gritted his teeth, determined to just ignore her, but his fingers had a mind of their own and seconds later he was staring at the new message.

_It feels so good when it slides over my erect nipples._

His cock jerked in his pants, and he turned the phone upside down, swearing that he wouldn't look at it again. He didn't want to end up in the bathroom to jerk off. But he was too weak, his gaze flicking to his phone every few seconds until he just folded and grabbed it.

_I am so wet, Jones. My fingers are soaked._

His phone buzzed again.

_God, Killian. I'm coming._

His own fingers were trembling around the phone, his other hand balling into a fist, and his fingers flew over the screen.

_Meet me at my apartment in twenty. Key is under the gnome in the backyard. _

"I'm out," he muttered and threw the cards on the table, shoving the chair back and stumbling up. "Excuse me. I gotta go."

Liam was hiding his grin behind his cards, biting his tongue to keep from laughing out loud when David stared after his friend bewildered, and shook his head while he muttered, "I've never seen him like this. Must be a hell of a woman."

-/-

"Bloody hell, Swan."

He stormed into his apartment, almost tearing the door of its hinges, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, only wearing his shirt.

"I am ready for a second round," she purred, and just turned around to saunter back into the bedroom.

"I wasn't there for the first round," he growled, slamming the door shut behind him and throwing his jacket on the ground. His shoes slammed against the back of the couch a moment later, and he yanked his shirt over his head as he rushed towards his bedroom.

"It was a good one." Her sultry voice greeted him as he stepped into the room, and all his blood rushed straight down from his brain into his cock as his eyes took her in, propped up on her elbow, his shirt sliding up over her hip and giving him a peek of the heaven that waited for him between her thighs.

Growling again, he pulled out his wallet and removed a condom, the wallet smacking against the drawer when he just threw it away. His pants were off in a blink of an eye, and he slipped the condom over his cock with jerky movements, his eyes never leaving hers as he settled between her legs, feeling her heat burning against the tip of his cock as he aligned himself at her entrance.

"God, Emma. One day you are gonna kill me."

He slammed home on the last word, and a groan rumbled out of his chest when her hot and wet sheath enveloped him tightly. Her nails were biting into his skin and her teeth scraped over his neck, and he completely lost it. Fucking her mercilessly with hard and deep thrusts. He wasn't even able to make sure she came first, his hips pistoning into her, his hands ripping the shirt apart, his fingers kneading her breasts, probably leaving bruises behind, twirling her nipples harshly.

Her body was writhing under him, her voice rasping into his ear, begging him to give her more, to take her even harder. He fastened his pace, the sound of their skins slapping together echoing through the room, and he couldn't keep it in any longer, his release spurting out of him, a strangled growl tearing through his throat as he felt her walls clamp around him and milking him dry, his heart racing in his chest as he crashed down on her.

He needed to force himself to slip out of her and roll off of her, his fingers shaking as he discarded the condom into the trash bin, and he didn't question his need to pull her into his arms afterwards. Didn't question how content he felt when she nestled her head against his neck and slipped one arm over his waist to scoot even closer.

"I put the key on the kitchen counter," she mumbled, her lips tickling his skin.

"You might as well keep it," he murmured. "You are probably going to drive me up the walls on a frequent basis, and I expect you to be waiting for me here when you make me so hard in public that I can't think straight anymore."

"So you want more dirty messages?" she asked, the teasing tone clear in her voice, and he chuckled.

"As long as you don't leave me hanging high and dry you can keep texting me like that."

"Okay," she breathed, relaxing against him, her breath evening out, and he closed his eyes, dropping off to sleep only moments later.

-/-

"How long are you going to fool yourself, Killian?" Liam asked quietly, and Killian looked up confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's Emma, isn't it?" Liam pointed with his finger towards his phone, and Killian just nodded. His brother let out a sigh, and rubbed his hand over his face. "I know you don't want to hear it, Killian. But you are so in over your head, and too stubborn to see it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I wish you two could see yourselves," Liam scoffed, and Killian just raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't even know how David is able to _not_ see it. The way you two look at each other whenever you are in the same room … I am baffled you can keep your hands off each other."

"Not true."

"Of course it is. But that isn't even the worst. You both start to literally glow when you are texting. I bet your faces are hurting afterwards from the goofy grins you are wearing while probably exchanging dirty messages."

"I am not glowing," Killian huffed. "And we are not texting each other dirty messages."

"Right. So last poker night you rushed out of the room as if your pants were on fire because Emma texted you about what she had for breakfast."

"I never denied that we are having sex."

"Like I said. You are fooling yourself," Liam said quietly. "I hope you are waking up before it's too late."

Killian stared at the closed door for a few moments after his brother had left his apartment before he could shake himself out of his stupor. Granted they were spending a lot of time together lately, and he enjoyed every minute of it, and maybe they spent as much time with talking as with having sex, but that didn't mean anything.

His brother was talking nonsense. Absolute nonsense.

-/-

He was joking around with Robin while packing his bag, and reached absentmindedly for his phone when it was ringing.

"Hey, brother. What's up?"

"It's Emma." The words slammed into him, freezing him at the spot. His bag fell to the ground with a loud thud, sudden coldness sweeping through his veins as he clutched his fingers so hard around the phone that his knuckles hurt. "She needs you, Killian."

"What happened?" He was already fumbling for his keys, ignoring Robin's whispered questions as he concentrated on his brother's voice.

"The case we were working on ..." He heard Liam's voice shake through the phone, and he clenched his fingers around the keys, welcoming the pain that shot through him when the metal dug into his skin. "We followed a lead, but we were too late. When we entered the apartment they were already dead. Killian, it was a massacre. The children ..." Liam's voice broke off, and Killian heard the sharp pants through the line as Liam was fighting for control. "She needs you, Killian."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I only turned away from her for a few seconds, and she was gone. Her phone is going straight to voicemail."

"I am gonna find her," Killian said firmly, pushing against the door and rushing down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. "And you are going straight home to Elsa. Do you hear me, Liam?"

"Aye, little brother. I will."

-/-

She didn't even know why she came here. It wasn't as if they were in a real relationship. They were only fucking. Nothing more.

But when she fled the crime scene and drove aimlessly through the streets she had ended up here. At his apartment.

Walking up the stairs like a sleepwalker, she fumbled the key he had given her a week ago into the lock and stumbled towards the couch, slumping down on it and staring into empty space, unable to move.

She couldn't get the horrible pictures out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. Her throat constricted and her chest tightened as the images of their mangled bodies flashed over her closed eyelids, every little detail burned into her mind, and she dropped her head, wanting to cry, but the tears didn't want to come, just stuck in her throat and made it almost impossible to breathe.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting on his couch, completely motionless, before she heard the keys in the lock. A strangled sob escaped her as she turned her head and saw him stepping into the room, and a moment later she was enveloped in his embrace.

-/-

She was here. She was safe.

He was beside her in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her onto his lap, his heart clenching in his chest as she curled herself up into a ball against his body, her hands clutching his shirt as she buried her face in his chest, her body shaking with her sobs, and all he could do was hold her tight, and murmur soothing words into her ear.

"I've got you," he whispered, skimming his hand up and down her spine. "I've got you."

Tears welled up in his own eyes as she cried her heart out, and he buried his face in her hair, screwing his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling. She needed him to be strong. He couldn't break along with her, even if her sobs were tearing his heart apart.

God, his brother had been right. He had been fooling himself all this time. His heart had stopped beating for a second when his brother had called, and the fear that something horrible had happened to Emma had slammed into him. Holding her in his arms now made him suddenly realize what he should have seen a long time ago. It was as if a curtain had been lifted to reveal a big secret to him, and he tightened his grip around her, pulling her even closer.

He was in love with her.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

She woke up slowly, blinking her eyes open to take a look at the alarm clock, and two thoughts jumped simultaneously into her brain … she was not at her apartment, and she was late for work.

"Shit!"

She almost crashed face first into the floor when her legs tangled with the sheet and she fell out of the bed, getting her hands under her body just in time to break her fall.

Pushing herself off the floor, she stumbled to the heap of clothes that looked like they were hers, her hands already reaching for her pants as the last remnants of the haze left her brain, and she remembered the events of the last night.

The crime scene, her drive through the city, coming to Killian's apartment, crying in his arms until she had no tears left.

She couldn't remember him carrying her to the bed. She must have fallen asleep in his arms at some point. But she remembered the three times he had woken her up when she had been writhing in agony, hunted by the pictures of the mangled bodies, pulling her into his arms every time and giving her the comfort she needed.

Taking in a deep breath, she shoved her legs into her pants, leaving his shirt on, and walked slowly towards the door. She needed to thank him for being there for her yesterday. Liam would understand if she was late. She would talk to him in a few minutes. After she had talked to Killian.

He was standing in front of the oven with a spatula in his hands, wearing only low-hanging sweat pants, and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she remembered the first time she had seen him making breakfast for her. After their first night together.

"Good morning," Emma said softly, her voice still hoarse from sleep, and the smile he shot her as he turned around made a warm and fuzzy feeling settled deep in her stomach.

"Good morning," he replied, wandering over to her and pressing a peck on her lips before returning to the oven. "I've already talked to Liam. You have the day off."

"Thank you." She slipped onto a chair and propped her head onto her folded hands, watching him.

She had tried for weeks to shove down the feelings she had for him. To just ignore that she was in love with him, and that sleeping with him didn't change her feelings for him. She had been rather successful.

Until yesterday.

Until she had driven to the one person she had needed the most in her distressed state. The one person who could give her comfort.

She had fooled herself long enough. She needed to tell him that this, what they had, wasn't enough anymore. That she wanted more. That she wanted to have a normal relationship with him. That she wanted David to know.

She let her hands drop down to the table, averting her gaze down too, worrying her lips as she tried to find the right opening to approach the subject.

A cup of coffee suddenly appeared in her line of vision, followed by a plate with scrambled eggs, and she looked up at him, her heart stuttering in her chest as his mouth curled up into a slow smile.

"I called David too," he told her nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "He knows you are here. He had been worried."

Her mouth fell open, and she could only stare at him for a few seconds before she croaked out, "David knows?"

"Yes. Like I said. I called him about an hour ago."

"But … how … now he knows … we ..." she stammered, not able to form one coherent sentence.

"Yes. Now he knows that we are seeing each other," Killian replied. "He didn't sound surprised at all."

Her mind was still reeling with the fact that her brother knew now, and it took her a few moments until she realized what Killian had just said.

"Seeing each other?" Her voice was thick with incredulity. She couldn't believe he really told David, and making it sound as if it wasn't a big deal at all. "You told him we are dating?"

"Yes, I did."

He was eating his eggs as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb on her, and she just stared at him until he looked up at her again before she spoke, "I thought you didn't want that."

His hand reached for hers, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, his voice turning soft as he said, "I thought that too. But being with you … I care about you, Emma. A lot. I like having you around." It wasn't some romantic love declaration, but she still felt her heart jumping in her chest, the look in his eyes melting her insides, his voice sending goose bumps down her spine as he added, "I've never been in a real relationship before, but I wanna try. I want to give this a shot. So I told David." He was looking at her intently, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. His head tilted to the side, his gaze suddenly getting worried when he said, "I hope that was okay."

"Yes," she breathed, tightened her grip around his fingers. "That's okay."

"How about you are eating your eggs, and then I'll drive you home?"

He let go of her hand and pointed to her plate, but she could definitely not eat breakfast now.

"I don't want eggs right now." She pushed herself away from the table, and stood up, walking slowly around the table.

"So what do you want then?"

He was cocking an eyebrow at her again, this bastard. And his mouth tilted up into a lopsided smirk. He knew exactly what she wanted.

"You," she whispered, and grabbing his hand she pulled him up from the chair, and dragged him towards the bedroom.

-/-

He brought her home hours later, the sun was already setting as they stepped over the threshold and found David standing in the door to the kitchen with his arms folded over his chest, and a serious expression on his face.

"I want to talk to Killian alone," David said firmly.

"But ..."

"It's fine, Emma," Killian said, pulling her into his embrace, and pressing his lips on her forehead for a second. "I'll come and say goodbye in a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

Killian heard David retreat into the kitchen behind him, but he stayed until Emma disappeared behind the door of her room before he turned around. Taking in a deep breath, he walked into the kitchen to face his best friend. He straightened his shoulders, forcing himself to keep his arms down, his fingers balling into fists as he waited for David to say something, or throw a punch.

But he did neither of those things. He did something completely unexpected. He chuckled.

"You should see yourself right now, Killian. What did you expect? That I would punch you?"

His shoulders relaxed and he shot David a lopsided grin, shrugging his shoulders. "Something like that. Though it was fifty-fifty between you yelling at me and throwing a punch."

"How long do we know each other now, Killian?"

"About twenty years. Give or take."

"Exactly," David said. "And I've never seen you like this before when it comes to a woman."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you two think I am completely blind?" David huffed and rolled his eyes. "If you wanted me not to know what was going on, you shouldn't have been in the same room together. Though you two didn't even have to be in the same room for me to know. You did flee our poker game as if your pants were on fire after all."

"You knew it was Emma all along?" Killian asked surprised. He had really believed they had been good at hiding it from almost everyone.

"I already suspected something when you climbed out of the window," David told him. "That was very soap opera, by the way."

"So you are okay with this?" Killian questioned. "With me and Emma being together?"

"Even if I wouldn't be … Emma is old enough to make her own decisions," David said, "But I know she has already wrapped you around her little finger. You are so screwed, Jones."

"As if you are any better," Killian shot back. "You would do anything for your woman."

"Of course. I love her. With all my heart," David's mouth curled up into a dreamy smile as he continued, "I would do anything for her, like she would do anything for me."

"You are very lucky, mate."

"Yes, I am."

Killian shifted from foot to foot, the course of the conversation turning too emotional for his taste, and he pointed towards Emma's room and said, "I am just gonna go say goodbye now."

"Killian, wait a second." David's concerned voice stopped him on his way out of the room, and he turned around. "How is she?"

"It had been tough yesterday. But I think she'll be okay. Just give her a little time to deal with it."

He almost stumbled backwards as David suddenly hugged him and clapped his hand on his back. "Thank you for being there for her, Killian."

"Of course," Killian replied, clapping his own hand on David's shoulder before stepping back. "I do care for her."

"I know." David grinned, waving his hand towards the door. "Now go and say goodbye."

When Killian reached her room he knocked softly, walking in after he heard her soft 'come in'. She was lying already in bed, her eyes meeting his as he walked over to her and sat down on the bed.

Lifting one hand, he skimmed his fingers over her cheek, her head tilting into his touch. "Everything alright?"

"Yep, we have his blessing."

"Good," she replied, smiling softly. "I told you so."

"Yes, you did."

He wanted to stay, he wanted to slip into the bed with her and pull her into his arms. But he wasn't sure she wanted him to stay, so he said nothing.

"Can you ..." Her voice wobbled a little bit, her fingers curling around the sheet, a soft pink raising up into her cheeks as she fidgeted, avoiding his gaze. "Can you stay?"

She looked so vulnerable right now, and his heart squeezed in his chest as she looked up at him again, her eyes begging him silently to not leave her alone. She had no idea how much he wanted to stay.

"Of course," he replied softly, slipping out of his shoes and lying down beside her.

She lifted her blanket and waited for him to scoot closer, a soft sigh slipping over her lips as she laid her head on his shoulder and relaxed against him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her lips ghosting over his skin as she pressed herself even closer against his body.

He couldn't say anything, the words stuck in his throat. He only tightened his arm around her, and brushed his lips over her forehead.

David had been right. He was so screwed.

* * *

**I honestly don't know what to say. The amount of reviews I got for the last chapter still leaves me floored. You have no idea how often I looked at the number and thought that must be a figment of my imagination, because that number can't be right. :-)**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

He hadn't moved for the last ten minutes, watching her sleep. Everything had happened so fast. Four months ago he had hardly thought of her at all. Only when David mentioned her in a conversation. And now she had turned his life upside down, and surprisingly he didn't care.

He exhaled softly, leaning forward and propped his elbows on his knees. His fingers itched to sweep her hair back from her forehead, and he felt a surge of need pulsing through him as he imagined waking her up with his head between her thighs, bringing her to a climax before she was fully awake.

He didn't know how it had happened. He had been reluctant to even touch her at first, trying to push her away. But after he had slept with her for the first time he couldn't get enough of her, and without him noticing it she had slipped into his heart, and when he finally admitted it to himself, it wasn't the shock he would have expected. Instead realizing that he loved her had brought him a calmness he hadn't felt in years.

Maybe he had never been in a real relationship because he had waited for her to grow up. Maybe he had always loved her, deep down. It was the only explanation why it didn't scare the crap out of him that he was in love with her. He just accepted it without trying to deny it, as if he was always meant to fall in love with her.

Maybe it should scare him. He had never felt so deep for a woman before in his life, and giving her his heart meant he was making himself vulnerable. She could hurt him deep when she wanted to. After all he didn't know if she shared his feelings. He knew she cared about him. He knew it had been he who had wanted to hide their relationship not she. But this didn't mean that she loved him.

Everything was different now. Admitting to himself that he loved her had changed everything, and made it surprisingly easy to tell David. The approval of his best friend meant a lot to him. He wouldn't have ended things with Emma if David would have told him to stay away, because it was definitely too late for that. But it would have made matters a lot more complicated.

They were dating officially now, and his mouth curled up into a grin as he thought about how he would have scoffed at anyone who would have told him four months ago that he would be in a real relationship very soon. His eyes drifted back to Emma, and he pushed himself up and walked slowly towards the bed.

He was in a relationship. With Emma.

Reaching down, he finally gave in to the urge and brushed her hair back from her forehead, smiling softly as she shifted under his touch, mumbling something incoherently before her eyes fluttered open.

"I have to go to work," he whispered, his heart slamming against his ribcage when her hand drifted up to his cheek and her fingers ghosted over his scruff. He leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead, the wish to stay and climb back into bed with her slamming into him as her mouth curled up into a soft smile, her eyes still hooded with sleep as she nodded, and he kissed her again before straightening up. "Talk to you later."

"'kay," she breathed, her eyes already falling shut again, and he walked silently out of the room, pausing in the door to let his eyes linger on her for just a few more moments.

He didn't know how it had happened. But he was head over heels in love with her.

-/-

When she woke up a few hours later she wondered for a moment if everything had just been a dream, but then David knocked at her door, and asked her if she was decent, and a smile tugged at her lips when he stepped into the room with his 'big brother' expression on his face, telling her that she should go easy on Killian and not break him.

The smile still lingered when David left, and she reached across to the pillow Killian had slept on, her fingers skimming over the dent his head had made, a silly giggle slipping over her lips as she rolled over and buried her face in the fabric to inhale the scent he had left behind.

Wrapping her arms around the pillow, she hugged it against her chest, staring up at the ceiling. She was dating Killian, and everyone would know that they were together. It still felt like a dream, but it wasn't.

She was dating Killian.

-/-

Being open about their relationship was easier than she thought. Somehow she had expected it wouldn't run as smoothly as it did.

He was apparently trying to make up for everything he did when he was still trying to deny that there was more between them. Romantic candle light dinners, bringing her flowers, making it a habit to bring her her favorite European chocolate once a week. And then there had been this one evening when he had picked her up with a limo, and had brought her to this fancy restaurant where a glass of wine alone cost a fortune, taking her dancing afterwards, and rounding the date up with almost making her come in the limo while they had been driving home, his clever fingers making her body vibrate with need, and she had nearly climbed on his lap and let him slid into her. But they had reached his apartment just in time, and the moment the door had closed behind them she had ripped his clothes off, eager to feel him inside of her.

But what she loved most were the quiet evenings at home, lying on the couch in sweats, bickering over what to watch on Netflix, and arguing over who was more bad-ass, Rick or Daryl, while watching all seasons of _The Walking Dead_. It was fun to tease him with lewd comments about how hot they were, especially since it always ended in him hauling her up from the couch and dragging her to the bed to make her forget about hot actors while giving her one orgasm after the other, only satisfied when she cried out his name and begged him to just fuck her already.

The last two months had been incredible, and she wondered when they would take the next step. They still hadn't said the words, but with each passing day she felt her worries ease more and more. He had never been in a relationship before, but she felt his love in everything he was doing. The way his face lit up every time he saw her, all the small touches when they were in public. His hand at the small of her back, his lips brushing over her cheek, his fingers curling around hers when they were walking down the streets.

It all felt so normal. So natural. As if they had been together for years and not only months. She had always known that he was _it_, and maybe she should just take the next step first and tell him that she loved him. She was fairly certain he loved her too, and if he didn't … it was better to know now than later when the pain of losing him would be worse.

-/-

"When do you ask Emma to move in?" Liam asked, lifting his bottle of beer and taking a sip.

"Soon," Killian replied, relaxing into the couch and reaching for the remote to switch over to the football game.

"Wait a sec?" Liam's bottle clinked against the table as he put it down hard, and Killian suppressed a smirk when Liam turned around to him with an incredulous expression on his face. "You already thought about it and didn't run away screaming? What did you do to my little brother?"

"Very funny," Killian scoffed and smacked his fist into his brother's shoulder when Liam chuckled. "She practically already lives here anyway."

"I am so proud of you, little brother," Liam said in a teasing tone, and Killian rolled his eyes.

"Younger brother."

Liam kept teasing him throughout the whole game, and Killian huffed out a relieved breath when the door finally closed behind his brother. It wasn't a big deal. Definitely not as big as his brother made it out to be. Emma had already the key to his apartment, now he just needed to find the courage to ask her to move in with him, though he was kind of reluctant to admit that he was afraid of her answer. After all they still hadn't said the words out loud. The last two months had been incredible. But she had never told him she loved him, and neither had he. But maybe it was time for him to jump into the cold water and just tell her how he felt and hope for the best.

"Grow some balls, Jones," he murmured, and taking in a deep breath he reached for his phone to make reservations at her favorite restaurant.

It was time to go all in.

* * *

**First off ... thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows! **

**Second ... this was the last fluff chapter for a while. For everyone who doesn't like angst … sorry, but I am an angst fan, and this story wouldn't feel right if I wouldn't throw in some angst. You can always stop reading here and imagine they lived happily ever after from now on. Moving in together, living together, getting married, having children, and living a long and happy life together. It will happen eventually, but not without some bumps on the road. So I hope you'll stay and enjoy the rollercoaster ride that will be the second part of this story. :-)**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Jones, my office."

"What did you do now?" Robin asked, shooting Killian a smirk when he turned around to him after Regina had disappeared back into her office.

"I hope you kept her satisfied," Killian grumbled as he pushed himself up from his chair. "Not that she is going to take her sexual frustration out on me."

Robin's fist connected with his shoulder and Killian winced, his mouth curling up into a grin as Robin muttered under his breath, "She is well satisfied."

"Then I don't have to worry about anything."

Killian sauntered through the open office space towards Regina's office, wondering what the boss wanted to talk about. His column was still a success, he didn't come late to work the last three months, and always handed in his work in time. He had really no clue why he was summoned into her office.

He closed the door silently behind him, and dropped into the chair in front of her desk as she waved him forward.

"I have a new assignment for you, Jones," she said, looking up from her computer for a second, still typing.

"Aye?"

It was probably a piece about a boring topic, that would make him cringe to even write about, and he steeled himself to accept it with a smile on his face, no matter what it was.

"Yemen," Regina told him nonchalantly, typing for a few more seconds before she leaned back into her chair, and locked eyes with him. "Get over there, and come back with a cover story for _Harsh Truths_ about child marriage."

His heart slammed against his ribs, her words rendering him speechless. She had always turned him down when he had asked to write a story for the journal Regina also owned. He wanted it for years, and finally he got the opportunity to do what he wanted to since he finished college.

Investigative journalism.

"Clear your schedule, and tell the people who need to know. Your flight leaves Friday morning."

_Tell the people who need to know._

And just like that the air left his lungs, and dread swept over him.

Emma. How should he explain it to Emma?

He had been about to ask her to move in with him. He had even ordered a plate for them to hang on his apartment door with both their names on it, since she had already given her a key and still wanted to give her something when he asked her. He had made reservations in her favorite restaurant for Friday evening.

But this changed everything. And he didn't know how to tell her.

-/-

Her legs were wrapped tightly around him, the water pounding down on his head as he pressed her against the tiles, driving into her over and over again. His movements became desperate as he felt himself getting closer, and he growled against her skin, sucking hard at the flesh directly over her pulse point, not questioning the need to mark her, knowing deep down why he did it, feeling the fear even through the lust rushing through him.

This could be the last night he spent with her, and he wanted every single second to count.

"God, Emma. You feel so fucking good. So fucking good."

"Killian, just …" she moaned when he shifted and thrust even deeper into her, hitting the spot deep inside of her. "Just there."

He slammed his hips into her ass, pounding into her with merciless thrusts, a guttural growl rumbling out of his chest as he spilled his release into her, feeling her walls clamp around him as she fell alongside with him.

He hauled her up into his arms the moment they had dried themselves off and carried her to the bed. He didn't even give themselves the time to get down from their highs completely before his mouth and hands were back on her body. Driving her insane.

She was writhing under him, breathless moans spilling over her lips as he licked and sucked his way down her body, closing his mouth over her nipples, over her clit, driving his tongue into her slick sheath until she was crying out his name, and a flick of his thumb against her clit pushed her over the edge again, and her walls were still fluttering as he slid into her, taking her with deep strokes.

He woke her up in the dead of night again, his lips around her nipple while his fingers slipped through her folds, her body arching into him as he brought her close to an orgasm before he turned around and pulled her atop of him, his hands roaming over her breasts as she rose above him and took him inside until the hilt, her fingers splaying over his chest as she rode him into oblivion, his hips bucking up to meet her, thrust for thrust, until they tumbled over the edge together.

Her breath was brushing over his chest as she was lying in his arms afterwards, her lips skimming over his skin when she shifted against him, relaxing into him moments later, and he stared into the darkness for a very long time, his arm firmly around her shoulders, his mind racing.

He was afraid to tell her, afraid she would leave him. But it was his dream, and giving it up for her would mean giving up a piece of him, and he was sure she wouldn't want him to do that.

He was standing at the stove the next morning, making her pancakes, her favorite food, and when she stumbled into the kitchen, her hair still in disarray from sleep, her eyes still cloudy, he almost forgot what he was about to tell her.

He loved her, but he wasn't sure it would be enough. He wasn't sure if she loved him enough to understand that he had to go.

-/-

"I am flying to Yemen."

"Yemen?" she asked slowly, putting her fork back on the plate. "What for?"

He saw the excitement flashing over his eyes, and the pancake formed a hard knot in her stomach as she connected the dots in her head.

"Regina is sending me down there to write a story about child marriage."

"For how long are you going to be away?"

"I don't know. For how long as it takes, I guess."

"Okay," she said, feeling the knot in her stomach harden. Nothing was okay. Everything was wrong.

"I always wanted to be an investigative journalist, and now I can be one." His voice was almost bursting with excitement, and he pulled her up from her chair and kissed her soundly before he leaned back, and grinned down at her. "Move in with me."

She could just stare up at him, disbelief knotting her stomach. Was he kidding her? He was telling her he was off to an unstable country in twenty-four hours, for a story that would definitely put him in danger, and in the same breath he was asking her to move in with him?

"Are you kidding me?" she asked, a hard tone in her voice. A tone he apparently didn't hear.

"Of course not. I want you to move in with me." His hands reached up to cup her face, his eyes sparking with excitement, his mouth curling up in a huge grin as he added softly, "I love you, and I want to spend as much time with you as possible."

The words slammed into her and took her breath away. She had been hoping he felt that way, was waiting for him to say it. But not like this. She hadn't imagined it to go down like this.

She pushed him away, a frown pulling at his brows when he looked at her, his happy smile faltering, and she stepped away, putting some distance between them. Folding her arms over her chest, she leaned back against the counter, digging her nails into her skin to keep herself from reaching for him.

"So you are leaving the country for only God knows how long, flying into an unstable country to do research for a story, and you didn't care to ask about my opinion?"

"It's my job, Emma," he said quietly, and she saw his shoulders slump. She hated herself for killing the spark in his eyes, but she couldn't help it.

"Your job is writing a column, being safe behind your desk."

"But it's not what I always wanted to write," he told her. "You know that."

She did. But alone the thought that he would be gone for weeks without her knowing where he was, and if he was safe, made her chest constrict.

"I do," she replied softly, averting her gaze to the ground. She couldn't look at him anymore. It hurt too much.

"And the fact that I love you and want to move in with you completely skipped your mind?"

He said it again, and she almost collapsed forward as the words sliced through her heart. She wanted to say them back, she wanted to step into his arms and hug him close, and tell him how much she loved him. But she was too scared. And angry. He didn't talk it through with her, he just told her he would go, that he would go to the other side of the world without asking her how she felt about that.

This wasn't how she wanted to hear him say the words. This wasn't how she wanted to live her life, their life. Being afraid of his life every time he went on one of his 'missions', the frantic attempts to push as much as possible into the few weeks he was home.

She couldn't do it. She just couldn't.

"I can't, Killian. I just can't," she murmured, staggering past him and grabbing her coat and purse, her fingers curling around the handle before she turned around one last time and met his gaze, her heart breaking when she saw the pain in his eyes. "I can't."

-/-

"You are one big hypocrite, Emma. You know that, right?"

"Get out!" Emma yelled, throwing a pillow towards the door, hoping it would hit her brother square in the chest.

"You are police, Emma." But of course he didn't listen to her. He never listened to her. "You can be shot every day, but you kicked Killian to the curb because he is flying into an unstable country to do what he always wanted to do?"

"It's not the same," Emma grumbled.

"Of course it is. If you think your love isn't strong enough to make it through a few weeks of separation, it wasn't worth it to begin with. He never questioned your choice. He never complained about you being a cop. Because he knows how much you wanted to be one since you were ten," David said softly, sitting down on the bed beside her. "And you know how much he always wanted to be an investigative journalist. He has the chance now to be one. Of course he is gonna take it."

"Shit!"

David was right. She was a hypocrite. She had just been hurt that he hadn't asked her first, but her brother was right. It had been Killian's dream as long as she could remember, and she didn't want him to take the job, because she didn't want him to be out of the country for an indeterminate amount of time, and put himself into danger he couldn't control. Something she did every single day. She was a cop in a homicide division. The threat of danger was always there, the moment she stepped out on the streets. She just said no to the love of her life because she was scared. But she loved him. And she was a fool to think she could ever live without him. Loving someone meant to support them in every way. To help them live their dreams.

God, she was an idiot.

"Shit," she repeated as she jumped up from the bed and reached for her clothes. "Which flight?"

"UAE 345. Gate 43."

She shoved her legs into her pants, and threw a sweater over her head, jumping on one leg through the door while trying to zip up her boot.

"Keys!" David shouted, and she turned around, catching the keys David was throwing towards her before rushing out the door.

-/-

She was panting as she jogged through the airport, nearly crashing into a family when she rushed to his gate. She needed to reach him before he went through security. She just had to.

She skittered to a halt when she reached the line, her eyes flying back and forth over the people waiting for their turn to go through. But she couldn't see him, and her heart plummeted into her stomach as her gaze went past the security check and found him reaching for his belt and wallet.

"Killian?" She wanted to scream it, but his name came only out as a whisper, and she gulped hard, her fingers curling around the railing as she leaned forward and shouted, "Killian?"

But he couldn't hear her anymore, and she was standing at the checkpoint, the air wheezing in and out of her lungs as she was trying to catch her breath, and the only thing she could do was stare after him until he disappeared around the corner.

He was gone.

And she didn't tell him that she loved him too.


	14. Chapter 13

**I can't thank you enough for all your reviews, and favorites, and follows. It means the world to me.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

He smoothed his finger over the on button of his phone, contemplating for the umpteenth time if he should turn it on and check for messages one last time before he boarded the plane.

But he didn't actually push the button. He would check every few seconds if Emma had called or texted him back, and every time he had looked over the last thirty hours, and there hadn't been a message from Emma, his heart had grown heavier. So he just put the phone back in his pocket, and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Granted the way he had told her about his newest assignment had been shitty, and he probably shouldn't have told her, practically in the same sentence, that he wanted to move in with her. Not to mention telling her that he was in love with her like this. He totally overran her with this news. He should have found a better way to tell her. Maybe easing into it would have drawn another reaction from her than her breaking up with him.

If she really did break up with him. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Even talking with Liam about it hadn't helped. His brother had only told him that he shouldn't give up his dream. That he would eventually resent Emma for making him choose. Love meant you accept the whole package, and not only parts of it.

It hadn't make him feel any better. Nor the conversation with his best friend.

David had come to him a few hours after Emma had run out, wanting to say good-bye. The conversation had been slightly uncomfortable. His best friend was clearly sitting between two chairs. David didn't know what to say without betraying anyone of them, or both. So David had just hugged him and told him he should be careful over there, and come back home safe and sound.

But no message from Emma.

He had texted her three times, telling her that she shouldn't give up on them. That he loved her, and that he wanted to be with her. But she hadn't answered, and he couldn't say turn his back on his dream finally coming true.

Maybe she just needed a little time to think about it. Maybe they could talk when he came back. Maybe everything would work out after all.

He really hoped it would. Because he couldn't imagine a life without her by his side.

-/-

She scrambled for her phone, hoping that the screen would greet her with a blinking icon, telling her Killian had left her a message. But the screen was empty, and her fingers were actually shaking as she hit the speed dial again. Pressing the phone against her ear, she prayed for him to pick up. But she was greeted with the not available message once again.

Slumping down on the next seat, she clicked on her message icon, reading his messages one more time. She had refused to look at her phone since the moment she had stormed out of his apartment, and now tears threatened to spill over as she read his desperate words again.

God, she was such an idiot. She loved him for years, wanted to be with him since she was fifteen, and now she had it all. The relationship. His love.

She leaned forward, pressing her hands against her eyes to keep the tears back. Why didn't she stay? Why didn't they talk about it?

She loved him. She loved him so much, and she just ran out on him when they hit the first bump on the road. She was gulping down the tears as she stared down at his last message.

_I meant it, Emma. I love you. I LOVE YOU. Don't give up on us._

"I love you too," she whispered, her vision blurring as she smoothed her finger over the screen. "I love you too."

-/-

Fortunately it had been evening when they landed in Sana'a, and he could go to sleep immediately after reaching his hotel room. He woke up sixteen hours later, still groggy, knowing that the disoriented feeling would stay for a while. His eyes went to the doors of the balcony, and he scrambled out of bed, determined to take a good look at the city now.

He had been too tired to take in the city when he had been driven to his hotel yesterday, and when he stepped out on the balcony and looked over the city, he was amazed by its beauty. The sun was blinding him, and he took in a deep breath, feeling the altitude weighing on his chest.

He would have loved to explore the city, to go to the markets, to just sit somewhere and watch the people hustling around. But unfortunately he couldn't stay. He would meet up with his guide, Sameer Nassar, in an hour, and he wanted to take a shower first. He would probably not have the opportunity to shower properly in quite some time, and he wanted to take advantage of the facilities before traveling into the desert.

He stepped back into the room reluctantly, his eyes falling on his phone on the nightstand, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He wanted to turn it on so badly, but he didn't want to feel the disappointment again. There wouldn't be any messages. He knew there wouldn't be. But he still reached for it, his finger hovering over the on button.

With a curse he threw it on the bed without turning it on, stomping towards the bathroom. He turned around before he reached the door, letting out another curse as he walked back to the bed, and snapped his phone, pressing the on button and throwing it back on the sheet. He would look at it one last time after he had showered.

He forced himself to get everything ready for his departure before looking if there were any messages, but his eyes kept flickering to the phone every few seconds, and he exhaled a long breath when he was finally finished with packing and could give himself the allowance to check. He just reached for the phone when a loud knock at his door stopped him.

"Jones, come on. The Jeep is here."

"Coming."

He grabbed his backpack from the ground, and shoved his phone into his pocket without looking at it. They were miles out when he remembered he wanted to look at his phone for a message from Emma, and he pulled it out of his pocket while they rumbled over the dirt covered road.

When he unlocked the screen he was greeted by the message that he had four voice mails from Emma, and he groaned. He should have checked sooner. Now he was in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception, and according to their guide that wouldn't change the whole time they were out here.

"Well, I guess it has to wait until I am back," he mumbled, a spark of hope settling in his chest, and a smile pulling at his lips.

She had finally answered. She wanted to talk to him.

-/-

Maybe she should have sent him a text. But it had felt so impersonal, and she wanted to talk to him, to explain herself. She wanted to look him in the eyes when she told him she loved him too.

She knew she had to wait now until he came back from his assignment. Liam told her Killian couldn't be reached, only in case of an emergency, and Emma knew the fact that she had been so idiotic to not tell him that she was in love with him couldn't count as such.

She pulled her legs up on the couch, hugging them close to her chest. She was at his apartment, wearing one of his shirts. One he had forgotten to wash before he went away. One that still smelled like him.

She knew it was completely pathetic to be here. To wear his clothes. But she felt closer to him here, surrounded by his things. It made it all easier to bear.

She hadn't seen or heard from him in six weeks, and his absence was wearing on her. At least she knew he was okay. He had to check in with Regina over satellite phone every three to four days. Liam was always being notified, and without asking for it he always informed her too.

She was grateful for that. She would drive herself crazy if she wouldn't have any information about Killian's well-being. But she still missed him terribly.

So she allowed herself to sleep at his apartment over the weekends, let herself wallow in the memories this place held. Their conversations, their laughter. Her mouth curled up into a sad smile as she remembered this one night where they had sex on as much surfaces as they could manage, and her lips started to wobble as the ache in her heart grew so strong that she had difficulties to breathe.

She needed him to come home. She needed to wrap her arms around him, and pull him close. She needed to tell him.

-/-

He reached for his shades, pushing them back up his nose to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. He knew he looked ridiculous in the clothes of this region, with a thick beard covering his face, and sunglasses perched on his nose.

He must look horrible. He hadn't shaved in three weeks, his lips were cracked, his skin felt like sandpaper, and his hair was already touching his shoulders. Not to mention that he stank.

But he was happy.

He had all the information he needed in his backpack. His notebook was full with notes, enough to write his story. A story worth telling.

He could go home now. See his friends. His family.

He could go home to Emma.

-/-

It was just another day at the office. Or to be more accurate, another day at a crime scene.

Killian had been gone for over two months, and she missed him terribly. Her thoughts threatened to digress again, what had happened a lot over the course of the last nine weeks. Her mind just kept conjuring up gruesome pictures way too often. Killian lying in the sand with mangled limbs, or a bullet hole in his head. So many horrible things might happen to him over there, but she knew worrying about it wouldn't help at all, and she forced herself to focus on Grant again, listening intently while the ME told them about his findings.

It was hot, and Emma was glad they never wore their bulletproof vests when they were going to a crime scene, only when they were pursuing a suspect, and she had never been more grateful for that, jutting down notes on her pad while sweat was trickling down her spine.

They were almost finished when she suddenly heard a sound, a soft pop and a hiss, and a twinge in her side. But she didn't connect the dots until Graham grabbed her arms, his face eerily pale, and helped her to the ground. Her legs were suddenly giving out under her, and Graham was screaming for Grant. She didn't know what was happening, her vision blurring as she looked at Graham, and then the pain suddenly slashed through her and she gasped, her hands reaching for her side, her gaze wandering down.

There was blood everywhere. On her blouse, her jacket, her hands. Graham hands were as red as hers as he pressed them against her stomach, blood welling up under his fingers.

She had been shot.

"Emma, stay with me." Graham's voice sounded as if she was surrounded by cotton. "Stay with me."

Her breathing became erratic, dark spots flickering over her eyes, her eyelids drooping shut as the pain was radiating in waves through her. Her body was shutting down, and she tried to stay awake, to fight. But she wasn't strong enough, and when the darkness overwhelmed her only one thought swirled through her mind.

Now she might never be able to tell Killian how much she loved him.

* * *

**Sorry for the cliffhanger! **

**You can yell at me now if you need to. :-)**

**The next chapter is going to have a better ending. Promise.**


	15. Chapter 14

**Because you are all amazing, I finished the chapter already today so that you don't have to wait until Sunday. **

**I would give you all chocolate cookies fresh out of the oven if I could, but since I can't you are all getting a big virtual hug and a huge smoochie, Colin style. :-)**

**Thank you all so much!**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

They had run out of batteries for the satellite phone yesterday, but since they had already been on their way back to Sana'a and Regina knew that, he hadn't thought it was a big deal. When he was at his hotel room he could plug his phone in, and take a shower before listening to his messages.

Five hours later he was standing in his room, shedding his clothes, glad to finally get rid of all the sand. The beard was gone first, and he felt relieved when he had shortened it to his normal scruff. It felt much better as he smoothed his hand over it, and he took a close look at his reflection, shrugging his shoulders when he considered his wild hair. Nothing he could do about that now.

He was getting fidgety, contemplating for a second if he should listen to Emma's messages now. But he decided against it, enjoying the feeling of anticipation, and pushing his boxer briefs down he stepped into the shower, sighing as the hot water hit his skin. It felt marvelous to wash away the filth of the last weeks.

He indulged in the shower for about fifteen minutes before he stepped out, and wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing another towel over his head until his hair wasn't dripping anymore before he reached for his phone and turned it on. There was one new message from Liam, but since his brother knew that Killian would be home soon, he finally typed in the number to listen to Emma's messages, and anxiety was settling into his stomach. What if the content of her messages wasn't what he hoped for?

But then he heard Emma's voice through the line, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, her voice reminding him once again how much he had missed her over the last two months.

"Killian, I am on my way to the airport. I need to talk to you."

The second message sounded more frantic, and his grin broadened.

"Killian, damn it. Pick up your phone."

A laugh slipped over his lips as he listened to the third message, the curse that greeted him conjuring up a picture of her sitting behind the wheel and shouting at an idiot who dared to not drive like she wanted him to.

"Fuck you! Get out of the ... Oh, sorry. Traffic is freaking insane. Just ... don't go through security yet, okay?"

"I am sorry that I just rushed out. Please wait for me."

He was grinning like an idiot when Emma's last message ended, and didn't pay much attention when Liam's played, his thoughts with Emma.

"Killian, I need you to call me the moment you get this. Immediately."

Lowering the phone slowly, he frowned, wondering what Liam needed to tell him. It sounded urgent, and a weird feeling rushed into the pit of his stomach as he speed-dialed his brother. Something in his voice hadn't been right.

"Killian, finally."

"What's ..." Killian started, but was interrupted by Liam before he could even ask one question.

"It's Emma."

Killian's heart stopped. He could have sworn it didn't beat for a few seconds. A chill was rushing through his body despite the heat coming in from outside, and goose bumps erupted all over his skin.

"She was shot."

"Is she ..." He couldn't finish the sentence, the ground under him suddenly swaying, and he slumped down on the bed, his fingers clutching the phone in his hand, pressing it harder against his ear. She couldn't be gone. Not like this. He couldn't lose her.

"She is alive. But you need to come home right now. She …" Liam's voice cracked, and Killian closed his eyes, a sharp pain stabbing at his heart. "Her life is still hanging in the balance, brother. She needs you. I need you."

"I'll ..." Killian gulped hard, his mind reeling. He needed to get home now. Jumping up, he threw his clothes into his backpack, a lump forming in his throat and a heavy weight settling on his chest as he imagined never seeing her smile again, never hearing her laugh again. "I'm on my way to the airport. I'll try to get an earlier flight."

"I'll pick you up."

"I'll send you the flight dates as soon as I have them."

"Stay safe, Killian."

-/-

It was the trip of hell.

A seemingly endless discussion with the woman behind the counter, switching on the charm to get an earlier flight while his heart was aching and his mind was telling him over and over again that he might be too late, no matter how fast he could get out of Yemen. The red-eye flight he caught going by in a blur, checking his e-mail every few minutes, but all of Liam's updates were only two words.

No changes.

But no changes was better than seeing the message that she hadn't pulled through, and his heart slammed into his throat every time he tipped on the screen to read his new messages, a relieved breath escaping him when he saw the same message over and over again.

He tried to sleep, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep when he was finally by her side. That he didn't want to sleep until she woke up again. But he couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Saw her eyes crinkling at the edges when she laughed about one of his silly jokes, felt her lips on his, felt her breath tickling his skin when she was pressed close against him.

He almost jogged through security when they finally landed, only the thought that they might stop him if he rushed through customs kept him from sprinting. His brother was waiting for him with a Venti Americano, and Killian pulled him into a short hug. Both staying quiet as they walked to the car.

"Did you get any sleep?" Liam asked the moment the door clicked shut.

"No. I couldn't sleep." Killian replied, leaning his head against the head rest and closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again they were out of the parking garage, and the sun was blinding him. He pulled his shades down from the top of his head, and turned around to face his brother, the fatigue pulling at him as he said quietly, "Tell me everything."

And Liam did. Every horrid detail. That he coded two times on the operating table. That they kept her sedated for two days to help her body to heal. That she still hadn't woken up. The assurances of the doctors that her not waking up didn't have to be a bad sign.

"How is she now?"

"Still no changes. The doctors can't say more until she wakes up."

-/-

He was staring through the window at her pale form under the blanket, countless tubes connecting the monitors that surrounded her bed to her body, making her look fragile, and he wished she would just wake up so that he could scoop her up into his arms and carry her home. Where she would be safe. Where he could protect her.

"Promise me you'll find the shooter, Liam," he rasped, balling his hands into fists as he turned around to his brother. "Whoever it was, you are going to bring him to justice. Promise me!"

"We will do everything in our powers to find him, Killian. You have my word."

Liam left him soon after, and Killian was finally alone with Emma. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her forehead, tears springing to his eyes as he looked down at her.

She was so pale.

Pulling a chair beside her bed, he sat down, his fingers shaking as he reached for her hand, taking it carefully into his own.

He needed her to wake up. This couldn't be the end. He would not allow her to just leave him. Lifting his other hand, he skimmed his fingers over her cheek, brushing back a strand of hair.

"Come back to me, Emma," he whispered. "Please come back to me."

-/-

It felt like fighting her way through a waist-high snow wall, her mind caught in a nebulous state, a dull pounding located at the left side of her stomach. Forcing one eyelid open was a herculean act, and it fell shut again almost immediately.

Exhaustion swept over her, and she stayed motionless, concentrating on the sounds and smells surrounding her. It took her a few moments before she could connect the sound and smell and the feel of the rough sheet under her fingers.

She was in a hospital. She had been shot.

What explained the pounding, and her nebulous mind.

Seconds ticked by as she gathered her strength to open her eyes again. This time they stayed open, and she was able to look around.

Her eyes fell on the figure slumped in the seat beside her, and a soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Killian.

She tried to call him, but all that came out was a rasping sound, barely audible. Her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth, and her throat was so dry that she could hardly gulp. She tried to call him again, but it was still only a croak, and he didn't stir. She was getting frustrated. Frustrated with her inability to speak or move. She watched him for a few minutes, just wanting to try again as he shifted in his chair, and she kept staring at him, hoping that if she just wanted it enough that her thoughts might force him to wake up.

And he did. His eyes fluttering open, his mouth cracking open on a moan as he stretched himself, the movement stopping the moment his gaze fell on her.

"God, Emma. You're awake." He was by her side in a blink of an eye, his eyes shining bright with relief as he grabbed her hand. "You are finally awake."

"Water," she croaked out.

"Sure," he replied. "Of course."

He was reaching for the carafe of water that was standing on the night stand, filling a cup and putting a straw in it before holding it to her mouth, and she closed her lips carefully around it, gulping down a few sips before she slumped back into the pillow exhausted.

"I am so sorry," Killian said softly, and her eyes returned to his. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ..."

She stopped him with a finger pressed against his lips, and she didn't even know how she managed to do that. Her arm felt like lead, and the effort to hold it up was already too much, and it dropped back down on the sheet.

"I need you to stop talking for a second," she forced out, the words sounding harsh as she pressed them through her still dry throat. "I need to tell you something important."

His fingers closed around hers, and he nodded, his eyes glued to hers as he waited for her to speak. Her brain still felt sluggish, and she concentrated all her will power on getting the words out, the words that she had feared he would never hear as she had felt the life drain out of her. But he was here now, and she was alive.

"I love you, Killian." His gaze grew soft, and his fingers squeezed her hand. "I love you."

His lips were on hers a moment later, and her eyes fell shut as he kissed her softly.

"God, Emma. I was so afraid that I might lose you," he breathed. "I love you. I love you so much."

Lifting her hand, she threaded her fingers through his hair, her tired body already demanding of her to go back to sleep. But she needed to know something first. "I hope the offer still stands."

"To move in?" he asked, his mouth still so close to hers that she could feel him smile. "Of course."

"Good."

She wanted to stay like this forever, wanted him to pull her into his arms, wanted to fall asleep with her head on his chest. But of course she couldn't, and she let her arm drop down again, letting him lean back reluctantly. Her side was burning like hell, and she winced as she shifted on the bed. Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she searched his gaze, the words coming out in a slur as she asked, "You are staying, right?"

"Yes, love. I am staying."

* * *

**I hope this made up for the cliffhanger I left you with in the previous chapter. **

**I can't promise you that I will have another chapter out on Sunday. But at least this chapter has a fluffy ending, and doesn't end on a cliffhanger. :-)**


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

She had never been a good patient. She remembered having to stay at the hospital for a week when she was twelve after her appendix had been removed, and she had been cranky all the time. Granted she was no child anymore, so she tried to keep her crankiness to herself most of the time, and act like the adult she was.

But of course Killian looked right through it. Not that it should surprise her in the least. He had gotten good in reading her over the few months of their relationship, and the fact that he hadn't been here when she got shot was clearly making him feel guilty.

She knew they still needed to talk. But not here. Not at the hospital.

Another reason why she wanted to go home as soon as possible. You had zero privacy in a hospital. It felt as if every few minutes a nurse rushed in or some visitor, and she didn't want to get interrupted.

Because telling him she loved him might have been the first step, and it had been the information he needed to hear first. But she still needed to tell him that she was sorry for pushing him away.

She got more antsy from day to day, and just wanted to get out of there. The scar was still giving her some trouble, fast movements were completely out of the question. She could be glad that she was finally able to go the bathroom on her own, and could get rid of that damn catheter. But she could walk again, and she didn't want to stay in the hospital any longer, pestering the doctors every day when she could finally go home.

Four days later the doctor finally gave her the permission, if someone would stay with her. Furrowing her brows, she let out a sigh. David had to go to work every day, and she didn't want to ask him to take his precious vacation days for her. Especially since she knew he was planning a romantic weekend away with Mary Margaret where he wanted to propose. She would not ruin his plans.

"She can stay with me," Killian said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as her eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he added, "You are acting like a caged animal since the moment the meds let you think straight again. I can write my story from home."

"Really?" she asked, her mouth curling up into a huge grin. "Thank you."

"Okay, Ms. Swan. I'll tell the nurse to prepare your release papers." The doctor was almost out of the door when he turned around to her again, his mouth twitching as he apparently tried to hide a grin. "No strenuous activities, Ms. Swan. You still need to rest as much as possible."

"What does he think I am going to do?" Emma mumbled when the door clicked shut behind the doctor. "Jump you the moment we have some privacy?"

"Well, you've done it before," Killian replied, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Shut up," she scoffed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, wincing when the movement pulled at her scar.

"No strenuous activities, Ms. Swan," Killian scolded, catching the pillow with ease, his face splitting up with a huge grin.

"You are so gonna pay for this when I am fully recovered," she grumbled, taking the pillow back from him as he was holding it out to her.

"With strenuous activities, I hope." He was leaning over her now, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"They will be definitely strenuous," she replied, grabbing his necklace and pulling him down to her. "That I can assure you."

-/-

She would never admit it out loud, but it felt good to be cared for like that. He didn't even let her lift one finger. He even wanted to carry her every time they needed to move. What she plainly refused. Because that was a little too much.

But he had forced her to sit on the bed while he had been going through her closet and packing a bag for her to take with them. A tingle of need had been rushing through her as he had held up a corset and grinned at her, shoving it into the bag with a mumbled '_For our strenuous activities_', making her wish she could just pull him on the bed with her, and have her wicked way with him.

Now she was lying on the couch in his apartment, a steaming cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon on the couch table, a blanket thrown over her and the remote in her reach, and she couldn't remember the last time she had been that relaxed.

"Killian?"

He stopped on his way to the kitchen, and she crooked her finger, waving him back to her. He crouched down beside her, and she lifted her hand, her fingers ghosting over his scruff.

"I am sorry for running away from you. Sorry for reacting the way I did."

"You don't have to ..." She pressed her fingers on his lips, stopping him from speaking.

"I am not finished yet, Jones." His lips tilted up into a lopsided smirk under her fingers, and her heart skipped a beat. She had almost ruined everything. "Especially now. After I've been the one who got injured in her line of work. Not you."

His eyes darkened, the grin vanishing in a heartbeat. "I was so scared, love. So scared that I lost you."

"I know. And I am sorry for that too."

"That wasn't your fault."

"True. But I'm still sorry I scared you like that."

"But you are here now. With me. And I will be forever grateful for that," he said softly. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life, Emma. I love you."

"And I love you," she whispered, wrapping her hand around his neck and pulling him closer to brush her lips over his. The kiss was too short for her liking, but she knew deepening the kiss would just made her want to do more, something they couldn't do right now, and she let go of him reluctantly.

"So … since I should rest as much as possible," she drawled, snuggling deeper under the blanket, shooting him a mischievous glance. "How about you are playing house man and cook me dinner?"

"As you wish, milady," he replied with a completely straight face. Standing up, he bowed deeply, the corner of his mouth twitching as he turned around to walk into the kitchen.

She was still grinning like an idiot when she reached for the remote and turned on Netflix to see if she could find something to watch while her boyfriend was making her dinner.

-/-

She was glad she was finally allowed to bathe again. There was nothing more relaxing than stepping into the bathtub and letting the hot water work out the knots in her muscles. Even better when Killian joined her, his fingers kneading her shoulders until the tension ceased. His hands always started to wander when he felt her relax completely against him, his fingers closing around her nipples. Tugging, pinching, twirling. Until the ache in her core became unbearable and she turned in his arms, straddling his hips and sinking down on him, the hot water sliding in with him always making her gasp.

She loved having sex with him in the bathtub. His eyes were glowing with need, his wet hair plastered to his head, and his strong arms enveloped her, keeping her steady as she rose and fell atop of him.

The best part of it all, or maybe the worst, was when he stopped her movements, his cock buried deep inside of her while his mouth and tongue laved at her breasts, making her nipples hard and aching, nibbling and sucking at her until she whimpered his name. Only then he slipped one hand below the water, his fingers reaching down to the point where they were joined, his thumb pressing against her clit while he pulled her head down, and kissed her hungrily, his fingers making her come around him before he allowed her to move again.

Needless to say ... the bathroom was always a mess afterwards.

-/-

She was looking through the two-way mirror at the person sitting at the interrogation table. She had thought she would feel better when they finally found him. When she finally got some answers. But she hadn't expected this kind of answer. It changed everything.

The door was opened slowly, and she turned her head, relief washing over her as Killian slipped into the room.

"Liam called me," he said softly, stepping beside her, clear worry clouding his eyes. "I can leave if you don't want me here."

"No," she spoke quickly, closing the gap between them, and wrapping her arms around him. "Stay. I would have called you if I would have been thinking straight. "

"So, this is the shooter?"

"Yes." Her voice wobbled, and she pressed her body more firmly into his. "He ... shooting me was kind of an accident apparently. If you can call it that."

"Accident?" Killian's voice was harsh with incredulity, and she leaned back to look up at him.

"He still thinks he is at war," Emma said quietly, turning her head to watch the shooter through the mirror again.

She felt Killian relax, his arm coming around her shoulders. "PTSD?"

Emma nodded, her head falling onto Killian's shoulder as she spoke, "I thought finding him would make it easier. Knowing why he did it. But the reason I was hoping to find isn't here. He is just a man who clearly needs help. He thought I was the enemy. That I needed to be taken out before I would hurt even more people. He lives in a completely different world, and seeing him ... it just makes me sad."

"You are an incredible person, Emma." Killian's lips brushed over her forehead, and she closed her eyes. It hadn't been the closure she was hoping for, but it was still a closure.

"Let's go home," she breathed, tilting her head and pressing her lips against his skin. Liam and Graham would close the case, but she didn't want to stay any longer, sudden exhaustion pulling at her. She just wanted to go home and forget about this in Killian's arms.

"Yes, let's go home."

-/-

They were living together for four months now. Emma never moved back to David. She just stayed, even after she could have lived on her own again. They never even talked about it. Killian had just told her one weekend that they would go get the rest of her stuff, and she had worn a goofy grin on her face as she walked out of his apartment after him.

But it wasn't his apartment anymore. It was theirs now.

They were happy. They had the usual fights about normal stuff. Like why her clothes always had to be strewn all over the bed, or why he wasn't able to put the dishes directly into the dish washer and not pile them up in the sink. Normal relationship stuff. And the make-up sex was always off the charts amazing.

There was only one tiny problem they needed to deal with.

She pushed away from the doorframe and walked over to him. Sliding her arms around him, she hugged him from behind, his scruff scraping over her skin as he stopped typing and turned his head.

"Don't give up your dream for me, Killian," she whispered, pressing her lips against his cheek.

"Pardon me?"

"I talked to Robin today, and he told me that you turned down an assignment Regina wanted to give you."

"It's not a big deal, Emma," he replied, his hand reaching for hers and squeezing her fingers. "I don't want to leave the country again."

"But I want you to."

He pushed away from the table, and pulled her around, settling her on his lap.

"I don't have to write these kind of stories to be happy, love."

"We talked about this," she said softly. "I am following my dream, and you are following yours. Our love is strong enough for a long distance relationship. And you aren't away the whole year. Robin said you will probably be away once a year for two to three months, and the rest of the time you will be here. By my side."

"You really want me to go?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for any doubts. But there were none. She wanted him to do what he loved most.

"Would you tell me to stay at my desk from now on and stop pursuing my dream of becoming a homicide detective because I got shot?"

"No, of course not. You love your job."

"Exactly."

His eyes softened, and a lump formed in her throat as she saw the love shining out of his eyes. She was so incredible lucky, it still took her breath away sometimes.

"Did I tell you already how much I love you?" Killian said, his voice barely audible.

"Not that I can remember," Emma replied teasingly.

"I love you, Emma."

His hands cupped her face, and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth on his.

"I love you too, Killian."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

She would never get tired of seeing him in a tux. He didn't wear it often, but today was David's wedding day, and he was the best man. He looked gorgeous.

"Hey, sailor."

She stepped into the room, her heart skipping a beat as he turned around to her and greeted her with a huge smile. She would never get tired of that either. The way he smiled at her whenever he saw her.

"Hello, love."

He pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest, and a giggle escaped her as he planted a loud kiss on her lips.

"You are gonna ruin my make-up, Killian," she said playfully, leaning back in his arms.

His skin was still toned from the months he had spent under the African sun for his latest story, and his blue eyes were even bluer, the expression flickering over them right now making her stomach twist.

No, she would not have a quickie with him now.

"No!" she said vehemently, and his mouth curled up into a lopsided smirk.

"I didn't say anything."

"I could hear you loud and clear," she huffed, pushing away from him before her resolve would crumble into ashes under his heated gaze. "Not on my brother's wedding."

"But maybe at the reception?"

Liquid heat shot straight between her legs as she looked into his eyes. God, he was too handsome for his own good.

"Maybe," she replied, rolling her eyes at him as he flashed her a smug grin. "You are incorrigible."

"And you love me for that," he shot back, and she couldn't keep the smile of her face as she closed the gap between them again, and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Yes, I do."

Of course they ended up in a broom closet the moment the toasts were over, his mouth hot and demanding on hers while he just shoved her dress up and his pants down, slamming into her with one powerful thrust that caused her to bite her lip so that she wouldn't cry out.

"God, I love you, Swan," he rasped as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, plunging into her with deep strokes, bringing her to her climax with an embarrassing speed, and only seconds later she shuddered around him, pulling him with her over the edge.

Her legs relaxed, and he helped her plant her feet back on the ground, his eyes flickering to her neck, a satisfied expression on his face she knew too damn well.

"No, you haven't," she hissed, raising her hand and smoothing her fingers over her skin. She felt the slight prickle, and remembered his lips closing around her skin and sucking it into his mouth in the throes of passion, and she growled, "God, Jones. We are not teenagers anymore."

"It looks good on you."

"I am gonna kill you." She bent down and retrieved her purse from the ground. She shuffled around until she found the scarf she had brought with her, shooting him some death glares as she wrapped it around her neck. "You are so gonna pay for this."

"I bet I will," he drawled, wiggling his eyebrows at her and she suppressed the urge to smack him.

Damn him. She wanted him again.

-/-

"Stay safe," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him even tighter.

"I will," he replied softly, tilting his head to press his lips against her forehead. "I will."

She let out an embarrassed chuckle as she pushed back, wiping away the tears she couldn't hold back. "I promised myself I would not cry this time."

"I'll be back before you can really miss me."

"Liar," she whispered, forcing herself to smile through the tears. "At least I will be busy to calm down David when he runs amok the closer it gets to Mary Margaret's due date."

"I will definitely not miss that." Killian brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, and she raised her hands, curling her fingers around his.

"I love you," she breathed, letting her eyes roam over his face to memorize every inch of him for the time he was away.

"And I love you."

A last desperate kiss, and he was gone.

-/-

"I'm so sorry." The words weren't more than a harsh whisper, pressed through his dry throat. His tongue was swollen, a big clump in his mouth. He couldn't even remember the last time they had given him more than a few drops of water. He didn't even feel the coldness surrounding him anymore. His clothes were only rags, hanging in shreds from his body, and he knew his skin was chafed raw where the rope he was bound with dug in. But it was only one source of pain. His whole body was screaming with pain, and he wondered when they would lose interest in playing with him and just end it. "I'm so sorry."

He closed his eyes, trying to conjure up a picture of her, his eyes burning with tears he couldn't shed as a picture of her smiling at him flickered over his closed eyelids. He should have listened to his guide who had told him it was too dangerous to go back again. But of course he hadn't listened, thought he could get in and out before the Taliban soldiers came back.

But he couldn't. They had found him, and had taken him with them.

He didn't know how much time had passed. The dungeon they had thrown him in didn't have any windows. The first days they had hardly let him sleep, torturing him for hours, and he had lost any sense of time, the pain making it hard to even form coherent thoughts.

Suddenly the door was yanked open, and he winced when blinding white light hit his eyes. His guards were laughing when he lost his balance and crashed down on the ground, falling with his full weight on his bound wrists, and black spots danced over his eyes as he fought against losing consciousness, his hands pounding with pain in the rhythm of his heart beat.

He blinked his eyes open carefully, tilting his head with some effort to look at his captors. One was setting up something on the ground a few feet away from him, and he squinted his eyes to see clearer, his heart plummeting into his stomach when he realized what it was.

A camera.

He couldn't understand a word they were saying, but the camera in front of him told him everything he needed to know. It would end here. They were ready to execute him. They would film it and send the tape to his family.

A shiver ran over him, and he groaned as his hardly healed wounds broke open again, blood trickling down over his chest. A hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, an ax appearing in his field of vision, the chatter around him ceasing as their leader stepped from behind the camera and took the ax in his hand.

They would behead him, and Killian forced his eyes to the camera, croaking out his last words for whoever would watch the tape.

"I'm so sorry."

He just hoped Emma would never see it.

-/-

She had just made herself comfortable on the couch with a box of Ben and Jerry's, the movie paused on the screen as her door bell suddenly rang. She looked at the clock, wondering who could be at her door at eight o'clock on a Sunday evening. She didn't expect anyone.

Letting out a soft sigh, she threw the blanket back and scrambled up, hoping it wasn't some salesman she was too polite to send away immediately. But when she looked through the spyhole she was greeted with the back of a head she recognized immediately, and she grinned as she pulled the door open, but the grin faltered as Liam turned around and looked at her.

_No!_

She wanted to slam the door shut again, refused to believe it was anything but a bad dream. Her fingers curled around the door frame, her knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into the wood.

_No!_

She knew that look on Liam's face. Had seen it over a dozen times on the faces of officers who needed to tell relatives the bad news.

_No!_

"Liam?" Her voice wobbled, a flicker of hope still lingering in her heart but when he opened his mouth and started to speak even that last flicker went out.

"I'm so sorry, Emma." She saw the tears shimmering in his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulped hard, and his next words ripped her heart apart. "Killian … he is … he is dead."

"No!" She didn't even recognize her own voice as she stumbled backwards, shaking her head vehemently. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"I'm so sorry."

Liam stepped into the apartment and pulled her into his arms, but Emma just stood stock-still. Didn't move at all. Didn't hug him back.

There were no tears. No words. Nothing.

It couldn't be. She would not believe it.

He couldn't be dead.

He couldn't.


	18. Chapter 17

**I couldn't let you wait until the New Year, could I? :-)**

**And remember … in fiction miracles happen way more often than in reality. **

* * *

**Chapter 17**

She still didn't want to believe it. That he was gone. That she would never see him again. See his smile, hear his laugh, feel his arms around her waist, hear his heart beating under her ear when she was lying half atop of him.

Gone. It was all gone.

She hadn't cried yet. Not even when David had crushed her against his chest. They had all enveloped her in an embrace over the last three days.

Mary Margaret. Ruby. Graham. August.

But she was still numb. Everything was gray. Her mind was foggy, her movement stilted. She felt like a robot. Just functioning without having any emotions.

She still couldn't believe it. As long as she didn't believe, it wasn't real. Not in her mind.

Liam had refused to let her see the video first, but she had told him she needed to see it to make it real. She needed to see it to face reality. Without watching it she would never believe that he was gone forever.

A part of her had hoped that it was fake, but Liam had assured her with a broken voice that they had checked, and nothing hinted at it being fake.

He was dead.

But it wasn't real for her. Yet.

The DVD was lying on the couch table, but she turned away, walking slowly through the apartment they had shared over the last year, looking at all the pictures of them grinning into the camera.

They had been so happy.

A sharp pain slashed through her, making her gasp, but she continued, walking from room to room, letting the memories flood her. The trip to Disneyland, Killian being a goof throughout the whole trip, making her laugh so much that her stomach had still hurt from all the laughing days later. Their skiing trip to the Rockies, getting snowed in and spending days in front of the fire. Just the two of them. Making love on the hearth rug, eating chocolate until they felt sick, drinking champagne.

The grayness lifted as she looked at all their happy moments, remembering them made reality crash into her with a force that almost brought her to her knees.

Never again.

It was over.

Gone.

She stumbled into the bedroom, her vision swimming as tears welled up in her eyes when her gaze fell on the bed. They had spent so many happy hours in there. Laughing, making love, talking. Her eyes went to the frame above the bed, a strangled sob tearing through her throat. She remembered calling him an idiot when he had presented it to her - the shirt she had taken with her after he had pushed her into his closet to hide her from David. He had framed it for her. It was so silly, and so cute. And she loved him so much.

Her chest constricted, tears burning in her throat as she staggered back into the living room and to the couch table, her fingers closing around the casing of the DVD. Dropping down on the floor, she opened the DVD player and put the DVD in, staring at it for quiet some time before she let it slide back in.

She scooted backwards, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the screen. No sound escaped her when he appeared on the screen, the shock slamming into her, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She thought she had prepared herself for this. But nothing could prepare herself for seeing him like this. She hardly recognized him, a thick beard covering his face, his hair a filthy mess. The only thing she recognized was the blue of his eyes as he opened them to look into the camera.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice was barely audible as he croaked out the words, and she pressed a hand against her mouth, tears clogging her throat as she kept staring at the screen, her eyes sweeping over his battered body.

"I'm so sorry."

She saw a hooded figure step beside Killian, hauling him off the ground, saw the gleam of the ax as he swung it over his shoulder, and she scrambled for the remote and pressed the pause button. She couldn't watch this to the end. She just couldn't.

Killian's face was frozen on the screen, and she lifted a hand, smoothing her fingers over his face. And then she broke, sobs wracking her body, tears streaming down her cheeks. She could only take in shuddering breaths, rocking back and forth as the grief hit her with full force.

He was gone. Dead. She would never see him again.

She didn't know how long she was sitting on the ground, how many hours passed until she was able to stand up again. She stumbled into the kitchen, opening the liquor cabinet and reaching for the bottle of rum, new tears forming in her eyes. It had been his favorite drink, and she wondered if it would ever stop hurting. If she would ever be able to move on.

The bottle clinked against the glass as she poured a fair amount into the tumbler, downing it in one gulp. Pressing her hands onto the counter, she stared blindly into the glass, contemplating if she should just drink the whole bottle, and find oblivion for a few hours.

She knew it wouldn't work though, and she pushed the bottle back, pressing her eyes closed and forcing herself to think about the next step.

His burial.

Liam had pulled some strings, though she didn't know how he managed it, but a Seal team was on it's way to Afghanistan with the order to find Killian's body. She knew the code. _Leave no man behind_. But Killian wasn't military. He had been a civilian.

A part of her had wanted to intervene, to tell Liam he shouldn't ask for it. Soldiers shouldn't risk their lives to bring back a dead body. But another part wished for him to be home, wished that when she visited his grave she knew he was in there, and not an empty casket. So she hadn't said anything.

It was probably the wrong decision. But she needed him to be home.

-/-

He didn't know why they kept him alive. Why they didn't kill him. The leader had raised the ax and had shouted something in his dialect, and then another soldier had pressed a button on the camera and the red light had ceased. They had stopped the recording. They didn't kill him.

He didn't understand.

For a few moments he had hoped they were asking for ransom, that they would not kill him. But then one of his captors who spoke a few words of English had yanked his head back and had grinned down at him, his voice thick with glee as he spoke '_You dead now_'.

He had seen the conviction on their faces. They were convinced the faking of the tape wouldn't be discovered, and Killian believed them. He had never really hoped for a rescue, but there had been a small spark of hope staying, deep in his heart. But it was gone now. No one would come. They would keep torturing him until his body was too weak to survive any longer.

In the hours they left him alone shivering on the cold concrete of his cell, he wondered why he was still fighting, why he didn't just give up, why he didn't provoke them so that they would go too far and finally kill him and relieve him from the pain.

The people he loved already believed he was dead. They were already mourning for him. He knew his captors wouldn't let him go. He would die eventually.

Then why did he keep fighting?

_Because you can't give up the hope to see Emma again_, a small voice whispered in his head, and he closed his eyes, his mind grasping for an image of her, his heart aching in his chest as her green eyes, sparkling with amusement, flashed up in his mind.

He was fighting for her. Because as long as he wasn't dead there would always stay this small shard of hope in his heart that he might see her again.

-/-

She hadn't even resisted when Liam told her she was on desk duty. She had just nodded and walked to her desk, shuffling around with the papers on it without really seeing them. It broke Liam's heart to see her like this. She was only a ghost of herself. She had lost considerable weight over the last four weeks, the shadows under her eyes had deepened with each passing day. He had asked her to take a vacation, but she had told him she needed to work.

He was the same. Coming to work to keep his mind occupied with something, to keep his mind away of the pictures hunting him day and night. He hoped they would find Killian's body. He hoped they could give him a proper burial. He hoped burying him would help heal their wounds.

The ring of his phone yanked him out of his thoughts, and he turned around, walking slowly towards his desk. He recognized the number immediately. The Seal team had apparently news for him. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he reached for the receiver.

"Captain Jones speaking."

"Captain Jones, we got him." He could hear the flopping of helicopter blades over the line, his heart heavy in his chest, the last flicker of hope dying. Hope he had still harbored deep inside. Hope that his little brother might still be alive. He closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around the receiver in his hand as the grief crashed down on him again. But then the commander spoke again, and his words took Liam completely by surprise. "He is alive."

* * *

**I am still completely floored when I look at the amount of reviews, favorites and follows I've got for this story. Thank you all so much!**

**And now (like we say it here) … I wish you all a great slide into the New Year, and hope to see you all safe and sound in 2015!**


	19. Chapter 18

**I can't thank you all enough for the amount of reviews I got for the last chapter. It means really a lot to me to know you enjoy reading this story. **

* * *

**Chapter 18**

It was too much. It was just too much.

He couldn't fight any longer. The pain was tearing him apart. His eyes flickered down to his leg, taking in the sight. He didn't even flinch anymore when he looked at the mess of splintered bones and ripped flesh. His left hand didn't look any better, and every breath he drew in shot pain waves through his torso as his broken ribs protested against every movement.

He wanted to die. He couldn't go through another of their torture sessions. He just couldn't.

He tilted his head slightly as gun shots sounded from outside his dungeon. They were back, and firing themselves up by shooting some rounds. A whimper slipped over his lips and he tried to crawl backwards, almost blackening out as excruciating pain ripped through his body. But there was no way of escape. They would haul him up and tie him to the chains hanging from the ceiling and would revel in his screams echoing through the room while they tortured him for hours.

He wished he could just die, and end this. Once and for all. But his heart had refused to give up so far, clinging desperately to life, the hope of seeing Emma again refusing to cease.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered through cracked lips. "But I can't hold on any longer."

The door opened with a screech, and he flinched backwards, pain racing through his leg as he tried to scramble away. He couldn't see much despite shadows when the light from outside blinded him, and he lifted his right hand as if the movement could stop them.

"Killian Jones?" a strange voice was addressing him, and he blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Someone was crouching in front of him with a helmet on his head, an automatic rifle draped over his knees, wearing a uniform he recognized from somewhere. "I'm Commander Nathan Gills. U.S. Navy. We're gonna get you out of here."

The relief washing over him took his breath away, and he couldn't keep the sobs back, even though each sob was increasing the pain shooting through him.

"We need a stretcher in here," someone barked, and he closed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating everything or if they really were here to rescue him.

Everything after that was a blur, soldiers heaving him carefully on a stretcher, carrying him out and to a chopper, and as he stared out of the open door, seeing the building in which he had been tortured for weeks disappearing in the distance, he let himself believe for the first time that this wasn't a dream he would wake up from.

He was alive. He was going home. He would see Emma again.

-/-

"Emma?"

She looked up when she heard Liam's voice, even that small movement seemingly taking too much effort. Everything was taking too much effort since Liam had told her. She felt as if her mind was numbed, clouded by fog. A fog she needed to fight through every time someone expected her to function. To say something. Do something. She shook her head slowly, trying to focus on Liam, and what he wanted from her.

"He is … Killian is alive."

She opened her mouth, and closed it again, staring up at Liam, unable to comprehend what he was saying, asking herself how he could be so cruel to say something like that to her. But then she saw the happy expression on his face, the tears gathering in his eyes, and the fog surrounding her mind started to clear as he hauled her up from her chair and wrapped his arms around her. "He is alive."

"He is?" she heard someone say, realizing a second later that she had spoken the words. She hadn't even realized that she had opened her mouth to say something.

"Look!" Liam pushed her back and fumbled for his phone, tapping on it a few times before he held it towards her. "Here."

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the phone, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at the proof she was holding in her hand.

Killian lying on a stretcher in a chopper.

He was looking horrible. A lot worse than in the video. But he wasn't dead.

He wasn't dead.

She felt a hand closing around her arm, pulling her forward. She couldn't look away from the phone in her hands, her eyes never wavering away from the picture. She heard a door fall shut, the rattling of shutters, and some part of her brain, the part that was still able to form coherent thoughts, realized that Liam had brought her into his office for some privacy. The moment the thought left her brain, she crumbled to the ground, clutching the phone against her chest as the sobs shook her body. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a broad chest.

He was alive.

She didn't lose him.

He was alive.

-/-

Killian was slipping in and out of consciousness during the flight to the base, hardly noticing the doctor examining him after they had landed, feeling the sting of a needle and then the relief as the pain ceased to a bearable level, and everything started to get woozy.

He was carried into a plane later, the doctor jumping in after him telling him that they were flying him to Germany. He explained to him that he wasn't strong enough to get through the long transatlantic flight, and that he needed surgery as fast as possible to enhance his chances to keep his leg and hand.

They knocked him out for the flight, he only woke up after they had arrived at their destination. A doctor was explaining the procedures they would conduct with his leg and hand, and he scribbled his signature under the papers he needed to sign to give his consent. He might not be a doctor, but he knew his leg and hand needed to get straightened as soon as possible if he ever wanted to use them again. But he needed something before he went into surgery. He needed it desperately.

"Emma?" he croaked out, lifting his right hand, trying to grab the nurse's arm but failing. "Emma?"

"His girlfriend," he heard someone saying, and he wanted to tell them he needed to talk to her, but no words came out. His shoulders relaxed as the same voice continued to speak, "Get her on the phone. Let him hear her voice before we wheel him off."

He might have drifted off for a second, someone shaking his shoulder softly to wake him up. "Mr. Jones? Your girlfriend is on the phone."

He hadn't the strength to hold the receiver, and the nurse held it to his ear. Licking his lips, he tried to force out a word to tell Emma that he was listening, but his voice wasn't cooperating, leaving him frustrated.

"Killian?" He finally heard her voice, and he closed his eyes, a lonely tear slipping out from under his eyelashes and trailing down his cheek. He thought he would never hear her voice again.

"Emma," he sighed, tilting his head, pressing his ear closer against the receiver, wishing he could see her, wishing he could feel her fingers smoothing over his skin.

"Oh God, Killian. I love you."

"Lo ..." He gulped hard, forcing the words out past the lump in her throat. "Love you too."

"I'll be on the first flight over." He felt himself slip away and he struggled to stay awake, opening his eyes wide, fighting against the pull to drift off. He needed to hear her voice just a little while longer. "I'll be with you as soon as possible."

"'kay," he mumbled, losing the fight to stay conscious.

The receiver was pulled away from his ear, and his eyes drooped shut as he was wheeled towards his surgery, and the last thought he had before the anesthetist was putting the mask on his face was of Emma.

He would see her again. Very soon.


	20. Chapter 19

**Sorry that these last chapters are all on the short side, but writing about this topic is hard, and it takes out a lot of me. Writing emotional angst is quite draining. But it's Sunday, and I want to keep up the weekly updates. So I hope you like it despite its shortness. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

She had seen the picture. She had talked to him on the phone. But somehow she still feared this was all a dream, and she would wake up any second, realizing that he was really gone. She needed to remind herself over and over again that it was not a dream. That it was real.

He was alive.

She was sitting on the red-eye to Frankfurt, flying over to be by his side. She knew she should try to sleep but she was too wired. She was staring at pictures of them on her laptop, watching this one silly video he made of her while chasing her through the sand when they'd been on vacation to Miami, over and over again.

She'd actually paid the fee to have WiFi during the flight, searching the web for articles about PTSD. Just looking at the picture of Killian in the chopper made it clear that he wouldn't come out of this unscathed. Even if his physical wounds would heal, the psychological trauma would be severe, and she wanted to be prepared as best she could.

There wasn't much she could do, apparently. He had to find his way back to a normal life for himself. All she could do was be there for him, hoping he could talk to someone about what he went through if he couldn't talk to her. She might be too close. He might not want to tell her all the sordid details. She didn't need to know. But she would listen if he wanted to talk to her.

The most important thing right now was that his physical wounds were tended to, and from what Liam told her Killian would have months over months of physical therapy in front of him. She hoped he wouldn't lose his hand or his leg.

But it didn't matter for her. She would stand by his side, no matter what. She loved him since she knew what real love was, and nothing could change that. But she was prepared that he would try to push her away if the worst scenario happened.

She opened another article about that topic, and started to read. The more she knew the better she would be able to understand what he was going through.

She wanted to help. She needed to help.

-/-

The only thing she could feel, sitting by his bedside and waiting for him to wake up, was relief.

They saved his leg. And his hand. For now.

Like she thought Killian had months and months of physical therapy in front of him if he ever wanted to get most of the mobility in his leg and hand back. The doctors didn't sugar coat it. It would be a long way, the progress only slow.

Her eyes flickered to Killian's pale face, the beeping sound of the heart monitor soothing her mind. He wasn't out of the woods yet. Infection was only one of the possible complications. But Killian was a fighter. He would make it.

He survived hell. He came back to her.

He would make it.

Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to his face and skimmed her fingers over his cheek. Even now the fear that this was all a dream still lingered inside of her, making her chest tighten. They had been so sure the tape was authentic, that they really killed him. Even now, as she could see him and touch him, a part of her was still struggling.

But it was him. He was lying right in front of her. Battered and bruised. But he was here. He was alive.

She just wished he would open his eyes. She knew she wouldn't truly believe it until she'd looked into his blue eyes again.

-/-

It was like dragging himself out of a mud hole, his body unwilling to cooperate, fighting him every step of the way. But his mind was telling him that he needed to wake up. He would see Emma again. He just needed to open his eyes, and the first thing he saw when he finally managed to pry his eyes open was her.

His blonde angel.

Emma.

"Hey," she said softly, tears shimmering in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Hey," he managed to reply, his voice barely audible.

She smiled, a shaky smile, a smile he'd thought he would never see again. He drank her in, his eyes never leaving her face, and he opened his mouth, wanting to ask her if she could move closer, wanted to tell her so much. But he was too weak, his tongue not working like he wanted it to.

And then suddenly she was there, her forehead pressing gently against his, her fingers caressing his cheek, and he closed his eyes, calmness finally floating through his body.

She was here. Emma was here. By his side. In flesh and blood.

She was no dream. No hallucination.

He could feel her, see her, smell her.

He took in a shaky breath, forcing his uninjured hand up to smooth over her hair despite the pain the movement shot through his body. The pain meds were working, but they couldn't extinguish the pain completely. It didn't matter. He needed to feel her hair. He had dreamed of threading his fingers through her hair a million times while he was in captivity, and he just needed to feel it slip through his fingers again.

A soft sigh slipped over his lips as he finally touched her hair. So soft. The fragrance of her shampoo wafting towards him, and he gulped down a sob, the simple scent making him almost lose it.

"I love you," he croaked out, cupping her cheek. "I love you so much."

She leaned back, and he nearly whimpered. He didn't want her to move away. But then she felt her cool lips brushing over his forehead, her fingers closing over his and squeezing his hand softly. Her head tilted, and her mouth ghosted over his lips.

"I love you too."

He felt himself slip away despite his wish to stay awake, to talk to her, look at her. But all he managed was two whispered words, "You stay?"

"Of course."

His hand fell back down, and he wanted to open his eyes to watch her. But his eyelids were too heavy and he started to panic slightly, fearing this might all only happen in his head, and he would wake up soon and be back in hell.

As if she sensed his distress she laid her hand over his, and he felt the mattress dip slightly as she laid her head down beside his arm. Her thumb drew lazy patterns on his hand, and he finally relaxed and let his tired body pull him under.

She would be here when he woke up.

She would be here.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The past weeks had been tough.

Killian fighting through the pain his leg and hand caused him. Seeing him struggle and not being able to make the pain go away, had torn her heart to shreds. But she'd stayed strong. Helping him as best she could.

She knew he had a long way ahead of him before he could live a normal life again, but sometimes she just wondered if their life would ever be remotely normal again. She tried to keep the dark thoughts at bay, tried to not let herself get sucked into a hailstorm of doubts.

But it was hard.

The nightmares had come the first night he'd been home again, his screams yanking her out of sleep. His body had been jerking beside her, soaked in sweat. His head had been trashing around, and she'd actually needed to throw herself over him to keep him from doing any real harm to his still healing leg and hand.

He had woken with a start, staring at her wide-eyed, not seeing her but the horrors he'd gone through, and it had taken him a few seconds until his eyes had focused on her, and apologies had spilled over his lips.

There was no reason for him to apologize. But no matter how often she told him that, it didn't seem to change anything.

It was just so hard to see him in pain. Feeling so helpless.

It was just so damn hard.

-/-

At first he could concentrate on fighting the pain, could concentrate on getting through these first weeks where his leg and hand were pounding with pain even through the morphine they were giving him.

But it got better, the pain subsiding so far that he could actually travel. The flight had been a nightmare, but he was glad to be home again. Glad to be on US soil.

That was when the hard part began.

Fighting his way back to a normal life.

The physical pain he could deal with. He didn't mind to push his body to the limits in physical therapy. It kept his mind of other things. Things he didn't want to remember. Things he just wished would be erased from his memories, and would never come back. But of course it wasn't that easy.

The nightmares started the moment he was off the harder meds. When his mind wasn't pushed into complete darkness by the wonders of modern medicine. He now understood why people got addicted to pain meds. It was much easier to just give in and cloud your mind than to deal with the pain.

He did go to a psychologist. He knew he was dealing with PTSD, knew he needed help. But knowing something didn't actually mean you knew how to overcome it, how to fight it.

It took him some sessions until he admitted that he had survivor's guilt. Until he realized what was haunting him the most. He had survived. Because people had put their lives at risk to get him out. Thinking he was already dead. They risked their lives to bring his corpse back to the people who loved him.

His fucking corpse.

He would have been dead. He wouldn't have cared. People might have died on this 'rescue' mission. For nothing. No one had believed he was still alive. They thought he was dead. They shouldn't have risked it. But if they hadn't he wouldn't be here right now.

Like so many others. Other soldiers. Other journalists.

He didn't understand what made him so lucky. Why he survived, when so many others didn't. He knew he should embrace life now. He should be grateful. But all he could feel right now was guilt. Guilt for still having a life to live. For still being here.

He'd pushed himself, trying to force himself out of the spiral of dark thoughts he couldn't fight. Emma had come home one night, and he had just grabbed her and dragged her to the bed. He couldn't even fuck her properly, had to rely on her doing most of the work, his leg and hand nowhere near to functioning properly. She hadn't hesitated one second, she hadn't asked any questions, she hadn't refused him. Just taking him into her wet and scorching sheath and rode him into oblivion.

For a few minutes he'd forgotten everything. But everything had crashed down on him again the moment his heart had started to calm down.

He didn't deserve her. Didn't deserve to be alive.

And no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he needed to get over himself and start living again, he just wasn't able to do just that.

-/-

She didn't want to do this. Didn't want to leave. But maybe it was for the best.

It was a great opportunity, and Killian would want her to go. If she refused the offer he would think it was because she couldn't leave him alone, and it would push him further away.

She knew he wasn't really with her, felt it in every kiss he was giving her, felt it every time he slept with her. She knew he needed time and she was willing to give him as much as he needed.

But then she'd overheard him talking to David one night, and her heart had squeezed in her chest.

He hadn't known she was there. He'd believed he would come home hours later. But they'd caught a break in their case, and Liam had sent them all home early. They hadn't heard her coming into the apartment, and she'd known the moment she'd heard what they were talking about she should have left. But she just couldn't. Eavesdropping on their conversation, every word making her heart grew heavier.

He didn't think he deserved to be alive.

She knew he was struggling, but hearing his pained voice telling David that he fucking didn't know what to do. That he was trying to get out of it. That he knew he should be jubilating that he made it out of there, but just didn't know how to live with the knowledge that so many others didn't survive what he'd gone through.

Maybe it was good to go on a break. Maybe not being with her all the time would make it easier for him.

He was getting better. Physically. He was pushing himself during physical therapy, pushing his muscles and nerves to heal faster. He was still not able to walk without crutches, not able to move the fingers of his left hand more than a few inches. But he wasn't in immediate danger of infection or other complications anymore.

He was doing fine. Physically. His emotional state was another matter.

Maybe bringing some distance between them would help him. Maybe not seeing her every day in person would make him feel less guilty.

She didn't know anymore what was right and what was wrong. If it would help or if it would make everything worse. But she didn't know what else to do anymore. He was hurting with her by his side, her presence a constant reminder what he thought he didn't deserve. Maybe not being by his side every step of the way would help him come back to her.

Maybe it was the biggest mistake of her life to leave him just now, maybe she would lose him forever.

But maybe it was just the right step to take. The step that would safe him and their relationship.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"I can't go, Liam."

"You know this is a once in a lifetime chance, Emma," Liam replied softly, pushing himself up from his chair and coming around his desk to lean beside her.

"I know," she whispered, gripping her arms harder to keep herself from shaking. "But I can't leave him."

"It's an honor to be asked to participate," Liam told her calmly. "They won't ask you again."

"I know that too." She dug her fingers into her skin, struggling with the emotions threating to overwhelm her. She couldn't leave him. "But I can't leave him."

"He will be pissed at you if you decline the offer without even talking to him," Liam said, reaching for her arm and turning her around to him so that she had to face him. "He is still the Killian you knew. The man you fell in love with. The man who loves you. He wouldn't want you to not take this opportunity."

"Sometimes you are too perceptive for your own good. You know that, right?"

"My brother loves you, and you love him. What happened to him doesn't change that." Liam pulled her into his arms, and she leaned her head against his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his waist, being glad the blinds were closed, and no one would see her being so informal with her boss.

"No, it doesn't. But it changed him," she mumbled into his shirt, brushing her fingers over her cheek to wipe away the tear that had slipped out of her eye. Pushing herself back from him, she took in a deep breath, her voice raspy as she said, "Don't get me wrong. I still love him. I always have. I always will. But I'm not sure anymore if our love can heal his wounds. If our love helps him heal or makes it worse. If it helps his recovery or if it hinders it."

"He wouldn't have made it without you, Emma. I'm sure of that."

"Maybe."

"You still need to talk to him. No matter what," Liam said firmly. "You are a couple. He has a say in that matter, especially if you want to decline because of him."

"I know."

"He won't be alone. You know that."

She closed her eyes, taking in another deep breath before she whispered, "I know."

-/-

"I've been asked to participate in an exchange program. With Scotland Yard," she blurted out while they were sitting on the couch, watching a movie on Netflix.

Killian stiffened in her arms for a second before he pushed her back, and looked down at her, his mouth tilting up into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"That are amazing news, Emma."

"I'd be in London for six months, but I don't think I should ..." His finger pressing over her lips stopped her from finishing the sentence.

"You should," he said softly, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. "I'm okay. You shouldn't decline because of me. This is a great opportunity, and I want you to take it."

They argued back and forth for a while, but he remained stubborn, telling her that he was proud of her, that he would forge her signature on the acceptance note, that he would drag her personally to the airport to make sure she'd board the plane.

At the end she gave in, knowing she couldn't pass on this huge career opportunity without regretting it at some point, and Killian was supporting her.

She'd been by his side for months, trying everything in her powers to help him. But she hadn't been able to bring the light back into his eyes, because he didn't think he deserved her. Maybe a little bit of distance would help.

Hopefully it wouldn't be the end of their relationship. Hopefully she didn't have to live the rest of her life with a big hole in her chest.

-/-

It had ripped her heart out to say goodbye to him, to walk through security and fly to London. But she knew he wanted her to go. She knew she needed to go. It was an excellent opportunity. She would learn a lot. It was an honor to be chosen.

But all that hadn't counted when she had been sitting on the plane. When she'd been fighting back the tears as she'd been staring through the window down on the city until they'd broken through the clouds. She wouldn't see him for sixth months. The doctors had told him he wouldn't be able to fly for at least a year. With the medications he needed to take the risk of thrombosis was too high in his case.

But it was so hard to only communicate with him over Skype and What's App. She couldn't take him in her arms, couldn't be near him to help him through whatever he needed help with.

She missed him. She missed him so much.

The work helped. It was amazing to be here. But the accent of the people here didn't help. It reminded her of Killian on a constant basis, the ache in her heart ever present. She was so accustomed to the American slur that the British accents surrounding her now were making the pain almost unbearable.

The first time she'd heard the words 'Bloody hell' she almost jumped out of her skin, swirling around and almost expecting Killian to stand in front of her with a smug smirk on his face. But of course it wasn't him. He was far away. An ocean separating them.

And she felt so alone without him by her side.

-/-

It was so hard to be without her. The nightmares came back, yanking him out of sleep, leaving him struggling to get a grip on reality, to remember that he was back in America and not still in the dungeon.

He wanted to talk to her about it, but he knew the moment he would tell her about his nightmares she would fly over to be with him as soon as she could catch a flight, and he didn't want that.

He needed to get through this on his own. He needed to deal with all of this alone. If he wasn't able to make it, he didn't deserve to be with her. She didn't deserve to be shackled to a broken man, a man she'd feel obligated to stay with.

He knew she loved him, and he loved her. But because he loved her, he needed to heal. He needed to be the man she deserved. Not an empty shell who tried to be the man he'd been before. The man she fell in love with.

He had no clue how to manage that until the day Robin showed up at his doorstep.

"Hey, bro."

"Hey."

Robin followed him into the kitchen, taking the offered beer without a comment, and they both walked into the living room, sitting down without having said another word. Robin leaned back, taking a huge sip of his beer before he leaned forward again, his elbows propped up on his knees, the beer bottle dangling from his fingers as he met Killian's gaze.

"I have a proposition to make, and before you say no would you just sleep over it?"

Killian furrowed his brows, picking up on the anxiety vibrating from his friend. "I promise I'll think about it."

"Regina and I ..." Robin trailed off, fumbling with the label of his beer bottle for a few seconds.

"So you two are officially dating now?" Killian asked, trying to ease the tension.

"Shut up!" Robin snapped, grinning up at him.

"Just checking."

"We were talking and ..." Robin's grin faltered, his hand reaching up to rub over his face before he proceeded, "We think it would be good for you to take on this particular project."

"And what project would that be?"

"Regina has a high ranking member in the military as a close friend, and he'd asked her a while ago if she could think of a reporter who might be able to write a book about PTSD."

"Wow, I'll just stop you right there. I ..."

"Would you please hear me out." Robin interrupted him, and Killian felt his body going rigid with tension but he still nodded, forcing himself to relax back into the couch as his friend continued to speak. "You would talk to soldiers, hear their stories, talk to them about how they are dealing with being back here, how they are dealing with everything they'd been through. They would stay anonymous of course. You would tell their stories, tell how they were able to overcome the horrendous things they saw and went through. You can help, Killian. Help people who struggle with the same things you do."

"I don't think ..."

"You promised to think about it."

"Aye, I did."

Robin put the bottle on the table and pushed himself up from the couch. Walking over to him, he squeezed Killian's shoulder, his voice low as he said, "Call us tomorrow."

He thought about it, spent a sleepless night thinking about it, and the next morning he called Regina and told her he would give it a shot. Nothing else had helped so far, and he owed it to himself and Emma to at least try.

He hadn't expected it would help. He hadn't expected that it would help healing his own wounds to listen to other's telling their stories. His brain was spinning the stories in his head while he jutted down notes during the interviews. The struggles the soldiers were going through were so similar to his, and bringing it down on paper, talking it over afterwards with them to make sure they were okay with what he'd written … it helped.

It helped heal his wounds. It helped heal his heart. It helped bringing him back to life.

Three months of hard work, and he knew exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

He needed to fly to London and see Emma again.

-/-

"You sure you don't want us to come with you?" David asked, gesturing to the rest of the group. "We can hold your hand."

"No, I am definitely not turning up at her doorstep with all of you in tow," Killian replied.

"Yeah, that might be kind of weird," Robin said, wrapping his arm around Regina and pulling her close, the woman resisting for a second with a scowl on her face before she melted into his arms, making Killian grin. He was so happy for his friend.

"You think?" he shot back, the grin on his face broadening even more when Robin just mumbled something under his breath and pressing a kiss against Regina's forehead. God, this man was so screwed.

Just like him. Madly in love with the woman of his dreams.

"Take care, little brother," his brother's voice came from his right, and a moment later Liam pulled him into an embrace, slapping his hand on his back.

"Younger brother," Killian growled, hugging his brother close for a second before pushing back. "I'll see you all in a few weeks."

-/-

The hour he had to wait until he could finally board his flight was making him fidgety. He'd pushed his body to its limits over the last month, waiting impatiently until his doctors finally gave him the clear to fly.

He had wanted to be able to use his hand. He had wanted to be able to kneel down when he met her again, and after all the preparations over the last few weeks he had finally time to think, and his nerves raised their heads.

Maybe he shouldn't just fly over to her without telling her. Maybe this was a mistake.

He slipped his hand in his pocket and fumbled with the velvet box, contemplating to pull it out and take another look at the ring he'd spent hours searching for, and when his flight was ready for boarding he was almost not able to stand up because his legs were shaking so bad.

He was on his way to London. He was on his way to Emma. To ask her _the_ question.


	23. Chapter 22

**You really expect the worst from me! :-)**

**But ... there won't be any more angst. This is the last chapter, and then an epilogue. **

**Prepare yourself! It's going to be sappy!**

**If you know the movie '**_Love Actually_**' you will recognize a certain scene in this chapter. :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 22**

She enjoyed working here, enjoyed having this experience to work for Scotland Yard. But being away from Killian … it was hard.

Especially since it seemed they'd hardly had any time lately to talk. Either she was up to her eyeballs in work and was so exhausted that her eyes drooped shut while talking to him, or he was almost out of the door. These damn timezones didn't help matter either.

She tried to push down the doubts that just kept popping up in her brain. Doubt about making the right choice by going to England when he probably needed her to be home. Doubt about him pulling away from her.

He'd seemed distracted over the last three months, but she didn't dare ask what was going on, fearing that she might not like the answer, fearing that he might tell her that it would be better if they would take a break.

She didn't want a break. She didn't think she would survive a break. She didn't want to lose him, and somehow she felt as if they were drifting apart.

Maybe it was all in her imagination. She just didn't know. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to be with him.

-/-

Maybe he should have told her about his project. Maybe he should have told her he was doing much better now. That talking to the soldiers had helped him take the last step in his recovery. The biggest step.

But he didn't want to get her hopes up, he didn't want to disappoint her when he wasn't able to start really living again, when he couldn't pull himself out of the darkness.

But it had helped. He was living again.

So he had just booked the flight to be by her side. But now he wondered if it wouldn't be too much at once. Could he really ask her to marry him while she still didn't know that he had completely healed? Not only physically but mentally as well? Would he just steamroll her with the proposal? Especially the way he chose to propose?

He just didn't know.

But it was too late to have any doubts. He was standing in front of her apartment with the posters in his hands, the ones he'd spent the last day painting, mulling over the words over and over again. Discarding cardboard over cardboard. Not satisfied with it for hours, until he finally went through all the posters and decided they were perfect.

His fingers were shaking as he lifted his hand and knocked at her door, fumbling for the phone to be ready for her when she opened the door.

He'd never been more nervous in his whole life. He just hoped he was doing it right, and that she would give him the answer he was hoping for.

-/-

She hadn't expected him. Definitely not him.

Her jaw almost hit the ground as she just stared at him, standing in front of her. She was desperately trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. He looked different. Better.

She tried to decide what it was that was so different. The dark bags under his eyes were definitely gone and … she just couldn't put her finger on it until she locked her gaze with his.

His eyes. The light was back in his eyes.

"Killian …"

He lifted one finger to his mouth, pressing it against his lips, and she could just stand there, completely dumbfounded as his mouth curled up into a lopsided grin and he winked at her.

Her heart leaped into her throat when he pressed a button on his phone, and she had to reach for the door handle to not keep tumbling to the ground as the first notes of the song reached her ears.

No, he wouldn't … he couldn't … and then he leaned forward and reached for something out of her sight, coming back up with huge cardboards in his hands, and she pressed her fingers against her mouth, tears pricking the back of her eyes when he held them up and she could read the first.

_I'm here today because of you_

Her body was trembling, her heart hammering like a sledgehammer against her ribcage.

_Without you I wouldn't have made it_

Her fingers curled around the door handle, her vision starting to swim as she couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

_The thought of you was the only thing that kept me going_

The tears slipped down her cheeks, and she sniffled.

_You are the reason I am still alive_

She actually let out a sob, hardly able to read the words anymore.

_You are the reason I WANT to be alive_

And he smiled, his grin shooting waves of heat through her body.

_I love you, Emma_

She drew in a ragged breath, her heart almost galloping out of her chest. She couldn't breathe anymore. This was too much. This was ...

_More than anything in this world_

He was killing her.

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you_

Oh my God, it was happening. He would … would he ask the question?

_To be by your side in good times and bad_

Was she dreaming? This had to be a dream, right? These kind of things only ever happened in movies, right?

_So I am here today to ask you ..._

She would not hyperventilate now. She would not.

He put the cardboards away, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a blue velvet box, going down on one knee in front of her.

Air, she needed air. Because she couldn't breathe anymore.

He flipped the box open, and she couldn't see anything. She couldn't even see the ring because her vision was all blurry.

"Emma Swan?" But he could hear his voice. She didn't need to see anything as long as she could still listen to his voice. "Will you marry me?"

She didn't hesitate. Not one second.

"Yes," she breathed, her hand leaving the door handle as she reached for the box in his hand, wanting to touch it to make sure this was real. That it was really happening. "Yes, yes, yes."

-/-

"What happened?"

She curled up against his side, snuggling close to him, listening to his heart beating steadily under her ear. She didn't need to elaborate. He knew exactly what she was asking about.

"Regina offered me a job, and I took it."

He tightened his arm around her as he told her what he'd been doing over the last three months. She stopped him when he started to apologize for not telling her sooner. She understood why he did it.

He was here now. Whole again.

"Thank you for everything, Emma," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her forehead. "I can never repay you for all ..."

"There is no need to repay me. We are not keeping score here. We are in a relationship." She lifted her hand, looking at the ring on her finger, her mouth tilting up into a soft smile as she added, "I'm your fiancée."

"That you are," he replied, his hand reaching for hers, his fingers trailing over the ring. "And soon you are going to be Mrs. Jones."

"We haven't talked about names yet."

"Don't tell me you want to have a double name," he groaned, burying his face in her hair.

"Mrs. Swan-Jones? Mrs. Jones-Swan?"

"Whatever you want," he grumbled in defeat, but then his voice suddenly changed, becoming lower, more sincere. "I don't care which name you choose as long as you let me have the honor to be your husband."

"The honor is all mine," she replied. "I never let myself dream this would happen one day. That you would ask me to marry you."

"I'm sorry I pushed you away at first. I'm sorry I didn't fall in love with you when you did. We could have spent so much more time together."

"I don't know," she said pensively. "Maybe it would have been too soon. Maybe it was just the right time. And after all we have still a life time in front of us."

"True."

"By the way, proposing like that wasn't fair."

"Why?" he asked, the mock innocence clear in his voice, and she pushed away, glaring down at him.

"You knew I couldn't say no to that proposal."

"And why is that?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow, his mouth twitching as he tried not to grin.

"You know how much I love this movie. You always tease me when we watch it and I already start crying when he rings the bell."

"Well, I might have used this knowledge to my advantage."

She let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes before she laid her head back on his chest, whispering against his skin, "I'd have always said yes."

"I admit I had my doubts for a second if you would still take me."

"Still take you?" She drew back to look him in the eyes, furrowing her brows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The scars will never go away completely, and … maybe I don't deserve you. But I can't live without you, and I realized it's your decision. If you want me I won't doubt it anymore."

"I want you," she said softly, lifting her hand to skim her fingers along his jaw. "I always wanted you. I will always want you. Only you."

"Thank you for loving me." He tilted his head, pressing a kiss into her palm. "Thank you for letting me love you."

"You're welcome."

She didn't say 'I love you'. She didn't have to. Words weren't always necessary. Not when you understood each other perfectly without saying anything. Not when the love you shared was so strong that no words were needed.

You could say 'I love you' in so many ways, and she finally understood the saying.

Sometimes actions really spoke louder than words.**  
**


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Killian!" she giggled, actually giggled, as she tried to get away from his wandering hands. "Wait until I'm out of my wedding dress."

"No," he mumbled against her neck, his tongue flicking out and licking a wet path down her throat.

"Would you just ..." She shoved her hands against his chest, but he didn't budge one inch, and he smiled as she let out an exasperated sigh and relaxed in his arms in mock surrender. But the fluttering pulse in her neck betrayed her, and he was actually grateful that she'd decided to wear a strapless dress. It made it much easier to …

"Killian!" she gasped as he jerked her dress down, taking her bra with it, and revealing her perfect breasts to his gaze.

She couldn't complain more because a moment later he leaned down and sucked her nipple into his mouth, and all he could hear was a breathless moan when her fingers threaded through his hair and her back arched.

And she didn't complain when his hands closed around the fabric of her dress over her thighs and he pulled it upwards until it was bunched around her waist. And she didn't complain when he went down on his knees in front of her and buried his face between her thighs. And she didn't complain when he freed his cock and just took her right then and there. Against the wall.

Much later that night they were lying in bed with a bottle of champagne on the nightstand, her wedding dress lying in a heap of white fabric on the ground and his tux scattered all over the floor as his wife was stretching like a cat beside him, her fingers drawing lazy patterns on his chest, making his heart almost burst out of his chest with happiness.

"Killian?" she said softly.

"Aye?"

"You … did you … I was just wondering if ..." she trailed off, avoiding his gaze and he leaned back, putting a finger under her chin and pulling it up so that she had to meet his eyes.

"What is it, Emma?"

"Did you ever think about going back?" she whispered, her eyes staying glued to his to probably not miss any of his reactions.

He didn't have to ask her for elaborations. He knew what she meant. Rubbing his thumb over her lips, he took in a deep breath before he replied, "I did."

"I mean … it was always your dream and even ..." She hesitated, gulping hard before she continued, "Even after what you've been through I've wondered ... if you still want to go back to the work."

"Honestly, I considered it. But ..." He paused, and pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. "I can't. Maybe that makes me a coward. But I realized that we have enough injustice in our own country. Enough writing material right in front of our doorstep."

"That's true," Emma replied, her fingers splaying out over his chest. His eyes caught the twinkling of her wedding band and he couldn't resist to reach up and smooth his fingers over it.

"I want to stay at your side, Emma," he said softly, tilting his head to press a kiss against her forehead. "Maybe that's selfish of me. But the thought of being separated from you for months … I can't bear it anymore."

"Me neither," she whispered, her lips brushing over his skin, and his fingers curled around hers, squeezing them gently.

They lay silent for quite some time before Killian shifted and turned around, reaching for the bottle of champagne and filling two glasses.

Emma had pushed herself up against the headboard, not bothering with covering herself, and he felt lust coiling deep in his groin as he took in the sight in front of him. Leaning forward he closed his lips briefly over one erected bud before he held one glass out to her.

She waited for him to take the other glass before she clinked her glass against his, her voice low as she breathed, "To our future, Mr. Jones."

"To our future, Mrs. Jones."

-/-

_Five years later_

When she entered their living room with their three-year-old daughter in her arms she almost stumbled back as she took in the chaos. Cushions and blankets were strewn all over the floor, the couch table was pushed into a corner to make room for what seemed to be a fort, and she actually chuckled when her eyes fell on the three persons lying on the floor.

They must have exhausted themselves. And their uncle. Because they were all lying on the remnants of their fort now, James and Lily sprawled over Killian while they all seemed fast asleep. Her eyes wandered to the chimney, skimming over their wedding pictures and pictures of them with Riley until they landed on the Pulitzer Prize Killian won two years ago, sudden tears springing into her eyes as she was once again reminded how close she'd come to never having all of this.

"You okay, love?" his hoarse voice reached her ears and she blinked the tears away and turned around, smiling down at her husband.

"Yeah, everything is fine," she breathed.

She sat down slowly beside him in an effort to not wake up their daughter but Riley opened her eyes nonetheless, looking up at her with a sleepy gaze before she turned her head and saw her father. Stretching out her arms, she pumped her legs, eliciting a groan out of her mother when she pounded her feet against Emma's stomach.

"Daddy," she announced loudly. "Daddy, daddy, daddy."

Emma chuckled and leaned forward to give Riley to Killian and the moment she was in her father's arms she quieted down and wiggled against his chest until she found a comfortable position, her eyes drooping shut and seconds later she was fast asleep.

"You wanna join us, Mrs. Jones?" her husband asked, patting the cushions beside him with his free hand.

Emma shook her head and grinned. "No room for me anymore."

"There is always room for you," Killian said softly, wiggling his eyebrows at her, making her laugh. Of course he would turn an innocent comment into something lewd. "After all you can be my pillow."

"Scoot over," she said firmly, and Killian shifted carefully until his head lay on her outstretched legs, a soft moan slipping over his lips as she pressed her fingers against his temples. "Headache?"

"A little," he murmured, and she kept rubbing his temples until she felt him relax under her fingers, and she looked over the tumble of legs and arms on the cushions in front of her, tears rising up in her eyes again.

She didn't know what she did to deserve this happiness. Maybe going through the hell of thinking he was dead and gone forever made every moment she could spend with him so much more precious. She never forgot about these horrible weeks, and sometimes she had still nightmares about it. But every time she woke up screaming Killian was there, his strong arms wrapping around her, his soothing voice whispering in her ear until she calmed down again.

Looking down at the sleeping face of her husband through bleary eyes, she smoothed her fingers over his cheek.

"I love you, Killian Jones," she breathed. "You have no idea how much."

His hand suddenly reached up, closing around her fingers and his eyes opened slowly, finding her gaze, and her heart skipped a beat when his mouth tilted up into a soft smile as he said, "As much as I love you."

He drew their entwined hands to his lips and pressed a tender kiss against the back of her hand, and her heart swelled in her chest with all the love she felt for this man, tears clogging her throat and she pressed her eyes, trying to get a grip on the emotions playing havoc inside of her. Then his tongue suddenly flicked against her skin and a moment later he sucked her finger into his mouth, and her eyes flew open, a startled gasp rumbling out of her throat. When she looked down at him, the soft smile had turned into a lopsided smirk, his eyes practically smoldering with heat, and she couldn't help but chuckle, her heart starting to gallop in her chest as his tongue twirled around her finger, his teeth scraping along her skin before he released it out of his mouth with a loud pop.

"Later," he promised in a voice that shot a ball of lust straight down between her thighs, and her fingers curled around his as she licked her lips, her mouths curling up into a grin when he followed her tongue with his eyes.

"Yes, later," she said with a husky voice, settling her head back against the couch and closing her eyes.

Maybe she didn't know what she did to deserve being this happy. But one thing was for sure … she would cherish every single second.

**The End**

* * *

**Okay, that's it. This story is over now. **

**Thank you all so, so, so, so much. For the follows and favorites, and special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave me a review. I loved writing this story, loved reading your reviews. It wouldn't have been the same without all of you. **

**Thank You!**


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